


The Call of Destiny

by dmarie1184



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Canon Era, Drama, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Fate & Destiny, Friendship, Golden Age, Minor Violence, Other, Past Character Death, Post-Camlann, Post-Series, Prophetic Visions, Romance, Self-Sacrifice
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-17
Updated: 2017-03-28
Packaged: 2018-07-24 14:44:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 35,499
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7512268
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dmarie1184/pseuds/dmarie1184
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Merlin sends Arthur across the Lake of Avalon until the time he will rise again. Believing his calling has ended in failure, he decides to make his way back to his childhood home in Ealdor. But his path converges with another along the way, a young seer burdened by her "gift." What will this encounter mean for either of them? The call of destiny continues.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Encounter in the Woods

**Author's Note:**

> Like many fellow Merlin fans, the ending left me unsatisfied and with so many questions. Did Merlin ever go back to Camelot? Or was he destined to be forever alone, a perpetual wanderer across the centuries? I would like to think not. This is my attempt to fill in those blanks and maybe, just give him a bit of a hopeful ending, at least for one lifetime.

_Like many fellow Merlin fans, the ending left me unsatisfied and with so many questions. Did Merlin ever go back to Camelot? Or was he destined to be forever alone, a perpetual wanderer across the centuries? I would like to think not. This is my attempt to fill in those blanks and maybe, just give him a bit of a hopeful ending, at least for one lifetime._

_And as always the disclaimer: I do not own Merlin (just my OC)._

* * *

Slivers of the impending dawn touched the lake, shimmering over the surface. Merlin opened his eyes slowly, wishing he could escape back into sleep. The lake was eerily calm, smooth as glass. Just the day before, he had sent Arthur in a boat to the land of Avalon—to his death.

 _I failed. Everything I've done and he's dead_. Kilgharrah said that he would rise again. But when?

He stirred slightly, only vaguely aware of his hunger. He couldn't go back to Camelot, couldn't see the grief and pain in everyone's eyes.

 _I was the one who brought his downfall_. How many times could he have killed Morgana, thus ending her reign of terror? And that terrible mistake when they had gone to the Disir. Not only had he betrayed his own kind by insuring Camelot would stay free of sorcery, he had set in motion the horrible chain of events that brought him here. His attempts to protect Arthur had done the exact opposite.

He was empty. Purposeless. What was his life now?

 _Well you can't sit here wallowing forever_. He'd sent off too many of those he cared about here. Freya. Lancelot. Elyan. Arthur. The serenity of its idyllic surroundings mocked the turmoil of his soul. He couldn't bear to be here a moment longer.

He stood up, a bit too quickly on an empty stomach. His vision spun and he stumbled, but righted himself. He had no idea where to head now. The only place he could think of was Ealdor. He hadn't seen his mother in almost a year now, but that was a good two days' journey on foot.

 _There's no where else._ He set forth, putting distance between himself and the lake as fast as possible.

* * *

Della knelt on the forest floor, grasping the root of the wild angelica. The morning air was unseasonably cool. She suppressed a shiver and tied her shawl tighter, as if that would dispel the cold.

She had gotten here earlier than normal today, before her aunt Ealhwyn awakened. She warned her not to come out here today, as there were rumors of Saxons roaming the lands. Another chill ran through her ran through her, though this time this time was from a cold that went deep into her being.

Just a few days prior, she foresaw a great battle in the mountain pass of Camlann. _Blood pooled on the ground as the cries of men in the throes of death echoed around the valley. From atop a cliff, A great and powerful sorcerer called down lightning from the sky._

Emrys. She recognized him as the sorcerer Ealhwyn said would be the greatest sorcerer to ever walk the earth. She'd seen him in another vision before, years prior, when he was younger, when he was called Merlin.

She thought back on the events that had unfolded in her mind's eye-all the way up to seeing the king stabbed in the stomach by a younger man with anger and hate in his eyes.

She continued picking her herbs, trying not to dwell on the images that haunted her.

_Trees shrouded in mist. A woman with long dark hair walked down a hill, a malicious smile on her face. She stood over the injured king, and looked as if she was on the edge of sheer insanity._

_Behind her, Merlin approached, a sword drawn. Images come faster; suddenly, the witch is stabbed through. The light faded from her eyes as death claimed her._

Tears run down her face, and she wiped them away as quickly as they came, remembering the final part of the vision.

_A dragon appeared, eyes golden. He spoke to Merlin, who held Arthur by a lake. Arthur is still and pale in his arms. "There is nothing you can do."_

_"I've…failed?" His voice was broken._

_"No, young warlock, for all that you have dreamt of building has come to pass."_

_"I can't lose him—he's my friend!"_

_The king is laid in a boat, with his cloak arranged around him and his hands folded over his chest. Merlin placed a hand on his forehead and sobbed._

_"Arthur. In sibbe gerest." He set the boat off on the lake and continued weeping. The boat slipped into the fog in the distance and disappeared. Merlin collapsed to his knees and let out a wail so painful the sky seems to tremble._

Della tried to steady her stomach. In another life, years before, she had known Arthur and Morgana, had dined with them in the Great Hall in Camelot. But that had been so long ago, before her magic awakened. It was hard to believe she watched both die as if she had been standing beside them.

 _It's only ever death and destruction. Only ever pain._ Had these events occurred yet? The uneasy feeling in her stomach told her it had. Everything always came to pass.

Why has she been plagued with this? What good had it done? She pulled out another angelica plant in frustration, sending clumps of dirt flying up into the air. Aunt Ealhwyn claimed had she been raised a Druid, she would've been trained as a seer and revered. Not many had such a gift, as she called it.

But it had been far from a gift. _It has been nothing but a curse._

A twig snapped and she turned. Nothing behind her. Yet the hair on her arms stood on end. She sensed someone watching her but couldn't see where. Her heart beat faster in her chest as Ealhwyn's warning echoed in her mind. _Time to go._

She picked up her basket and made her way quickly back towards the rutted path. Something was not right. Something—

"What do we have here? A little forest sprite?"

Coming from behind the big oak tree in front of her stood a large man with a mop of curly brown hair on his head. Behind him were three others—all dressed in Saxon garb. The man stopped in front of her.

"Please let me pass. I have nothing you want." She tried to be firm but her voice was shaky. The men laughed and circled her as if she were a deer and they were wolves, hungry for their prey.

The man laughed. He looked her over and she couldn't mistake the predatory look in his eyes. "I think you have just what we want."

She broke through the circle, but only made it a step before she was grabbed by the leader. His arm pinned her in his grasp. "Not so fast, little one."

She would not find herself a victim to these brutes. She concentrated on the man's arm and the cloth of his sleeve. " _Forbærnan_."

Immediately, his sleeve was alight in flame. In shock, he threw her forward, yelling and yelping as he tried to put the fire out. Della dropped her basket and ran, taking the opportunity of the other men's shock.

_Faster, faster. Run!_

"Damned sorceress! You'll pay for that!" he roared. Just a few more steps until she was behind that tree—

 _Twhack._ Della screamed as an arrow hit her in her thigh, sending her crashing into the greenery. The pain sent shockwaves through her body.

The men quickly caught up to her. Three stood with crossbows aimed right at her. The man whom she burned had ripped his shirt sleeve off and a red blistering burn trailed up his arm.

"Not so powerful now, demon witch, are you?" He towered over her and she scrambled to crawl away, the arrow in her leg digging deeper. He took another few steps and kicked her with all his might—right in her rib cage. Once. Twice. Three times. _Crack, crack._

Instinct took over and she pushed back the pain for a brief moment as she concentrated on summoning the ancient power bursting forth within her. She screamed with every fiber of her being, the sharp twinge of her fractured rib digging ever deeper.

The world shook around them and the men with crossbows were thrown back as was her attacker. She tried to get to her knees, struggling against the pain in her lungs and leg.

Della closed her eyes, concentrating on trying to will her pain away. She tried to incant the healing spell. " _Ic hæle—"_

A knock to the head sent her world spinning again. "No more spells!" He unsheathed his sword and Della closed her eyes, waiting for death.

_I'm sorry, Aunt. I should've listened to you._

* * *

He should've paid attention on the direction he was heading. No villages were on this side of the lake. His stomach protested with each step. All of his numerous journeys across Camelot and he couldn't remember where the closest village was to buy a meager loaf of bread. He didn't have much coin on him and wondered if he could even barter for a slice.

As his mind wandered, thinking about where to go next, he heard a yell echo through the woods. It was one born of desperation, fear—and magic. It wasn't far off either. It was coming from down in the small valley.

He ran towards the sound and over the ridge and stopped dead.

Just off the pathway, a young woman lay in the grass, struggling to get up. A few feet away were her attackers—four Saxon men, just getting up.

Anger coursed through him, remembering the battle and all that occurred. What were they still doing here? They had been defeated at Camlann three days prior—was this a rogue band? Bile rose in his throat at the thought of what they had likely planned to do to her. He felt the familiar spark of magic on the edge of his fingertips.

He had to act fast. The biggest of the men was up and heading towards the woman, unsheathing his sword. With a gesture of his head, he aimed the full force of his magic on him. The attacker had no time to react as the world shifted and the wind tunneled towards him. He was sent airborne and crashed into a tree, the crunch of bone echoing as his spine broke with the force. His body turned in on itself and hit the forest floor with a thud, his sword lying useless in the dirt beside him.

The other three men shifted their focus on their new foe. Two had crossbows aimed directly at him and another came charging up the hill at him with his sword drawn. He knew from experience to dispatch the archers first. _Thunk, thunk._

He concentrated on the arrows and time around him, feeling the ebb and flow of the moments shift beneath his eyes. In a split second, he was able to redirect them to the trees behind him. They were in the middle of reloading again and he focused on the crossbows themselves. The wood was consumed in flame in a flash and the archers tossed them away quickly, yelling from the pain of their newly burned hands.

" _Átýdre sylu_." The men started sinking into the ground as the earth slowly began to consume them.

The swordsman was within a few feet now and Merlin darted backwards as the man swung at him. In a brief flash, he propelled the swordsman back at a great force, sending him tumbling backwards over himself twice. He remained still.

Merlin headed down the hill towards the archers mired in the fast-acting quicksand. They were now up to their waists.

"The harder you struggle, the faster this," he gestured with his head towards the quicksand, "will consume you. I can let you go if you leave this land and return to your brethren in the East."

"Yes, anything! Anything!" The taller man said. He was now up to his shoulders in the muck, his compatriot not much further behind him.

"If you try to attack me, or that young woman over there, you will not leave this place alive. Understood?"

"Yes!" Both chimed in unison.

" _Áfierre_ **.** " The two men were set on the path. Merlin stared them down, ready to make good on his promise in case they tried anything underhanded. He had no more patience for scum such as these. They scrambled to their feet and ran in the opposite direction as fast as their feet could carry them.

Convinced the other two were no more of a threat, Merlin made his way the young woman. His heart sank when he saw she hadn't been fortunate enough to be left unscathed by her attackers. An arrow shaft stuck out of her right thigh and she was gasping for breath, whether from injury or fear, he didn't know.

She regarded him with a sense of hesitation—and something else in her stare that almost seemed like either shock or recognition.

"I can help you," he said, kneeling next to her. Now that he was closer he was certain her strained breathing was from injury.

"I'm...fine," she said, the words almost as soft as a whisper.

"You can barely breathe. And you have an arrow sticking out of your leg!"

She ignored him and lifted her skirt to examine her wound, brow furrowed in pain. He looked away for a moment, feeling a bit uncomfortable at seeing her thigh but curiosity got the best of him as he watched her cup her hand over the spot where the arrow had entered her leg. She took a wavering breath as she incanted a spell.

" _Álúcan_." The arrow came out intact, but she cried out as it exited her leg, the blood pooling forth as its stopper was released.

Through gritted teeth she mumbled another spell. " _Þurhhæle licsar_." The blood flow slowed as the wound on her leg slowly closed up.

He was impressed at her level of magic. Healing spells took a substantial amount of focus and energy from the caster-evidenced by her strained breathing and the perspiration on her forehead.

She grimaced again and grabbed her side. She hadn't been able to heal herself entirely. He suspected she had a fractured rib—maybe more than one. She wavered a bit, her eyes fluttering. She was struggling to maintain consciousness.

He needed to act quickly.

"Please let me help you. I didn't chase those men off to watch you die here."

She hesitated at first but nodded. Suddenly aware of his presence and the fact her leg was still exposed, she pulled the hem of skirt back over the now healed wound, a quick shade of pink dusting her cheeks.

"Lie back; this will be uncomfortable. I need to check if you have a broken rib." She did as she was told and he carefully felt along her rib cage, drawing on his knowledge from years of being Gaius' assistant.

She squirmed as he felt along each bone. _There_. He couldn't be certain, but the break in the top rib was severe. He suspected it may have punctured a lung. She muffled a yell and saw her biting her lip hard, tears gathering at the corners of her eyes.

He concentrated on a spell of weaving the bone back together, at least partially. _"Þurhhæle bræd."_ His own energy was waning, after having used what magic he did earlier and on two days without food. He wouldn't be able to fully heal her here.

"I've done what I can for now. I need to get you somewhere safe and comfortable. Do you live nearby?"

"Hav…" her eyes began to roll back and he knew she was moments away from unconsciousness as her injuries caught up with her.

"No, stay with me. Don't—" Her eyes closed, and he berated himself for not taking control of things sooner.

"Damn it," he muttered. "I don't even know your name."

_My name is Della._

He recognized the familiar pull in his mind. He focused on the connection. _You are a Druid?_

_Not really…_

She was struggling at maintaining the connection, which was difficult enough when one wasn't bloodied and broken. He would ask her more about that later. Now, he needed to find out where her village was located.

_Stay with me a little longer Della. Where do you live?_

_Havenswood. 1st house in the clearing._ The subconscious whisper was all but gone now. _Thank you, Merlin._ Her voice went silent as quickly as it came.

Unease swept through him. Had she addressed him as Emrys, he wouldn't have been as surprised: Druids nearly always knew who he was on sight.

But she called him Merlin.

* * *

**_I hope the first chapter left you wanting to read more :) Thank you for reading!_ **


	2. Destiny's Puppet

* * *

 

Merlin carried her as fast as his legs could go. His muscles quivered with the strain as he fought his own exhaustion. _All that magic this morning on an empty stomach_. He tried to remember which direction Havenswood was. South maybe? Times like this made him wish he knew how to teleport. Though if he had known that, Arthur would still be alive.

 _I can't think about that now._ He needed to push past the grief for the moment and concentrate on the matter at hand: getting Della home. He'd be damned if he saw another person die in arms in two days' time.

He couldn't stop thinking about her addressing him as Merlin. She knew him, but from where? He didn't recall meeting her over the years. For now, his questions would have to wait.

The smell of hearth fires drifted on the wind and he knew he was heading in the right direction. Maybe just a quarter mile more….

The edge of the woods gave way to a clearing, with a scattering of thatched roof houses. It reminded him of Ealdor and there was a brief comfort in that.

She'd said the first house in the clearing was hers. Thankfully it wasn't far from the edge of the woods. A handful of villagers were milling about a bit further on and he avoided eye contact as best he could. Best not to draw too much attention, what with being a stranger carrying an injured woman.

He kicked the door with his weathered boot, hoping someone was inside. "Hello? Please open up. It's urgent!" The wooden door cracked open and a middle-aged woman with a round, full face appeared. She squinted at him, probably trying to figure out who this stranger was with an unconscious woman in his arms. Not a moment later, shock registered on her face once she realized who he was carrying.

"Oh no!" She beckoned him in. "Hurry, be quick!"

No need to tell him twice. He walked in sideways, making sure to keep Della from hitting either edge of the door. His head grazed the top of the short doorway. The woman closed the door quickly behind him and it took his eyes a moment to adjust to the darkness of the cottage.

It was small—tiny really—and a bit claustrophobic. "Over here," the woman directed him to the left wall with a small bed. He placed Della down gently, his arms shaking with the strain. She was incredibly pale. Worry laced through him then, and he suddenly doubted if he had managed to heal her well enough to survive.

The woman came behind him and edged in front of him, quickly assessing her. "What happened to her?"

"She was attacked by Saxons. I managed to…scare them off."

She looked at him incredulously, her brown eyes full of doubt. "You did more than that, I wager."

"Umm…."

"I know you are Emrys, so don't bother hiding it from me. My name is Ealhwyn and I am Della's aunt."

"Ah." _Of course._ If Della was a Druid, it would only make sense her aunt was as well. The Druids' uncanny ability of recognizing him was always unnerving.

Ealhwyn gathered a variety of vials and containers on a shelf. She moved towards Della again. "If you don't mind, I need to examine my niece."

"Er…yes, of course." He turned his back towards her, trying to decide what he should do. "Will she be all right? I healed her as best as I could with what energy I had left. She tried to do it on her own but—"

"That's Della for you," Ealhwyn said. She was quiet for a moment and he stood there, his back still towards them. "It looks like the top rib punctured her lung. If you hadn't healed her when you did, her lung would've filled with blood. You saved her life."

He let out a breath of relief, his tense muscles relaxing from the strain of the last hour. At that moment, his stomach chose to growl loud enough to be heard in the small cottage.

Ealhwyn chuckled. "Please, help yourself to some porridge. It's not much—Della's the better cook of the two of us—but it should help ease your hunger. You may be the most powerful sorcerer to walk the earth, but magic won't fill your stomach."

"Thank you." He meant it in more than one way. Sometimes it was nice to be treated as if he were just _normal._

He ladled some porridge in one of the wooden bowls left beside the porridge pot and sat down at the small table. The simple meal was like a great feast to him on his empty stomach. He remained silent, pondering the events of the last few hours.

" _Ahlúttre séocnes_." He listened as Ealhwyn incanted a healing spell. It conjured memories from years before, when his father had used the same spell on Arthur. Sorrow filled him again. So many people he loved and cared for had died. Loneliness and regret enveloped him then, and his vision clouded with tears. What had all the sacrifices brought? Albion hadn't been united yet; magic was still forbidden and feared thanks to people like Morgana; and Arthur was _dead._

He might as well have been born a privy cleaner for all the good being the great Emrys had done him.

"Is the porridge to your liking?" His thoughts were interrupted by Ealhwyn as she came over and sat down across the table from him.

"Oh, yes, thank you," he said, scooping another spoonful into his mouth.

She smiled as she ladled porridge into her own bowl. "I finished binding Della's broken ribs. It's been quite awhile since I used that spell. I wasn't sure if it would work."

"Where did you learn how to use it? It's not an easy one to master."

Ealhwyn's demeanor changed. "Della's mother and I were raised as Druids. We were trained as healers. Then the Great Purge happened and well, I'm sure you know the rest."

He did. Uther's persecution set all of these events in motion. The consequences of his deranged actions never ended.

"You managed to escape. Did Della's mother die in the purge?"

She smiled sadly. "No. She passed away many years later. But I'm afraid that's not my story to tell."

More mysteries. Perhaps he was getting too involved. But there was more going on here. He thought back to Della's addressing him in the forest.

"Can you tell me something else then?" He said. "She called me Merlin—not Emrys—before she passed out. No other Druid has ever called me that, at least not before I told them."

Ealhwyn's spoon stopped halfway to her mouth. Apparently, she hadn't expected that turn in conversation. She put her spoon down and looked to be trying to find the words. "Our king is dead, isn't he? You were at the lake of Avalon sending him off. That's why you happened to rescue Della this morning."

Now it was his turn to be shocked. He suspected visions were involved but not to this degree. He doubted word had even gotten to Camelot yet about Arthur's death. Pain mixed with irritation rippled through him. He'd encountered enough seers and prophets to last for eternity.

He ran a hand through his hair, trying to figure out how to proceed. "Let me guess: you foresaw my coming here. Is that why she was out in the woods? To meet me?"

"Do you think I would willingly send her into such danger to meet you? If I had foreseen what happened today, I would've done my best to prevent her from going out there."

He realized he went too far with his insinuations. "I'm sorry. I haven't had the best experiences regarding prophecy lately."

"It's understandable," Ealhwyn said. "But I think you misunderstand one thing: the burden of prophecy lies on Della's shoulders, not mine."

* * *

Warmth radiated around her, despite the darkness pressing upon her. It was strong yet humble, cradling her broken body. She tried to reach out again, but she was too weak to call out.

The pain in her ribs eased slowly, as if a warm thread of light sewed her back together again. The warmth faded away and slowly, she felt strength return.

Voices came, though muffled at first. She couldn't make out everything.

"—needs rest. Make sure she listens." Aunt Ealhwyn. "Ask her later. Answers will come."

Silence again. Della stirred, willing her eyes to open. So much effort just to wake up and face the world again.

After what seemed like ages fighting against her body's will to stay asleep, Della opened her eyes slowly. Sunlight streamed in through the shuttered window. It must have been midafternoon by now.

Ever so slowly, she turned her head. Ealhwyn was gone.

"You're up."

She jolted. Merlin stood up from his seat at the table and brought her a bowl. "You're looking at me as if I were a ghost," he said.

"I thought you would've left by now."

He sat on the chair next to her bed. "I had to make sure you were all right. Your aunt asked me to watch over you for a few hours. Here, let me help you sit up."

"I can—"

"Perhaps, but look what happened last time you refused my help." He put the bowl down. Gently, he eased his right arm under her. "Grab my hand," he said, offering her his left hand. She did so hesitantly and he held it tight. "Are you ready?"

"Yes."

Gently he eased her to a reclined position. She grimaced a bit, her right side still sore from the injuries wrought against her. But the stabbing pain was gone. The cold paste of the comfrey wrapped bandages eased into her skin.

"Thank you," she said. She felt her face growing warm at his proximity. Though he'd been much closer earlier—and had even carried her the nearly two miles home—she hadn't been aware of it. She realized she was still holding his hand and withdrew it.

"Here." He handed her a bowl of carrot and cabbage stew. "Your aunt said you needed to eat when you woke up."

She took the bowl. She hadn't realized how hungry she was until her stomach told her. Quite loudly.

Merlin smiled. "My own stomach made a similar noise earlier. Go on and eat. I'll leave you alone." He started to get up but she grabbed his arm—a move that surprised them both. She let go quickly.

"I'm sorry," she said, feeling her face warm again. "I don't know what's come over me. I just—well, I would like some company."

"All right." He sat back down. A moment of awkward silence stretched between them. Della took a bite of her stew, wondering why she had asked such a silly thing of him.

Merlin scratched the back of his head. "So...um. Ealhwyn went to visit a few of the villagers, if you're wondering where she went."

"I thought as much," Della replied. "She normally makes her rounds throughout the afternoon. Though I suspect she's spinning a tale as to why I was being carried by a stranger."

"Not many people were out then, but I was a bit preoccupied."

"One busybody is all it takes. The villagers love their gossip. Not much else to do out here besides that—and keep us busy delivering babies." _Oh dear._ Apparently she'd lost her propriety with the attack this morning as well.

He grinned. "I grew up in a small village. I know what you mean."

Della took another bite of her stew, silently berating herself for talking so boldly about villagers' conjugal habits.

He steered the conversation elsewhere, thankfully. "I'm guessing you help your aunt with the rounds often?"

"Sometimes, when she's out to another village. Many seek out her help and she travels a great deal. I'm used to being here alone." She realized how maudlin that sounded. "I spend the days making the poultices and tonic for our cabinet and for her medicine tote. Someday, I'll take over for her, but not for many years yet, the gods willing." She took another bite of her stew, her former nervousness fading.

Merlin smiled. "You remind me of myself. In Camelot, I used to assist the court physician. I often went on rounds with him, though he never trusted me to make his medicine. He often punished me by having me clean his leech tank!"

Della almost choked on her stew and had to spit out what was in her mouth. A laugh bubbled out of her though it was short lived as her bruised side protested with the unexpected movement.

"I'm glad the vision of me cleaning a leech tank brightened your day."

"It did, very much," she replied.

"It was a weekly occurrence, sometimes more. But that wasn't as bad as being sent to muck out the stables. Arthur used to make me do that when I would get on his nerves or smart mouth to him—which was practically a _daily_ occurrence there for awhile." He paused, his gaze turned wistful as if he were stepping back in time. "He could be a prat sometimes. Well, _most_ of the time." A profound sadness was evident in his words and he looked lost in thought. Della thought back on her vision of him, heartbroken and dejected. How many days had passed since then?

She didn't want to tell him how much she actually knew, how much she had seen. "Will you go back someday? To Camelot?"

Her question broke his contemplative silence. "I don't know," he said. His mood shifted again and his blue eyes stared unblinking at her. "You tell me."

Her stomach dropped. "What do you mean by that?"

"I think you know exactly what I mean," he said. "You called me Merlin earlier today. I've yet to tell you my name."

Della looked away, unable to meet his eyes. _He knows._

"Ealhwyn already told me you're a seer. She told me you saw Arthur's death at the hands of Mordred and that—" his voice caught. "And that you saw me at the lake sending him off. That's why you looked at me as if you'd met me before—because you have, in your visions."

She stayed silent, unsure of what to say. "I wish I hadn't been cursed with this…this _power._ I've yet to prevent my visions from happening. All the pain and suffering that I couldn't prevent," she closed her eyes, the weight of all the fulfilled prophecies coming to the forefront of her mind. "I've never wanted to see things that I couldn't change."

"Do you think I wanted the burden of my power? Or that I wanted to be in charge of Camelot's and Arthur's fate? Do you think I want to be destiny's puppet?"

She knew he wasn't mad at her, but at what life had given him. She felt guilty for venting as she did when he literally had the burden of an entire kingdom's future to contend with. "I'm sorry," she said, brushing the tears away. "I truly cannot comprehend what that's like—the pressure you had."

He put his head in his hands and sighed. "No. _I'm_ sorry. I didn't mean to trivialize your own pain. I know how much visions can mess with a person. I'm such an idiot, making a girl who almost died cry just hours later."

"You didn't make me cry," Della said. The last thing she wanted him to feel was guilt, on top of what he was coping with already. "My heart hurts for you. For us both really. Fate hasn't been kind to either of us."

"No, it hasn't. And I have a feeling fate isn't done with us yet."

She met his eyes and for a moment, a silent understanding passed between them. No words were exchanged; the familiarity of each other's troubles was all that was needed. In that brief moment, Della felt as if she finally found someone who could truly relate to her.

Merlin cleared his throat, breaking the moment. "I can take your bowl if you're done eating."

"Oh…um, yes," she handed it to him, its contents only half gone. The conversation had made her lose her remaining appetite. "Thank you." He took her bowl and went back to the table, averting his gaze.

"I'll make some rosemary tea," he said. "Ealhwyn said it would help ease some of the pain from your bruising."

"All right." Truthfully, she wasn't in the mood for tea, but he seemed uncomfortable at whatever had passed between them the last few moments.

"Merlin?"

"Yes?"

"Thank you. For talking with me."

He nodded in acknowledgment and went back to preparing the tea. A wall had gone up between them. Perhaps that was best for them both.

* * *

No more words were exchanged between them after she'd thanked him for the tea. He could sense her confusion at why he suddenly withdrew from her, but to her credit, she left him alone and didn't push him.

Truth be told, it unnerved him how similar they were. Though he didn't know her past at all, there was a brokenness about her that he could identify with all too easily. And for the space of one moment, he saw himself in her: weary and alone from the burden of being at the mercy of destiny's whims. He had yet to meet anyone who truly understood. Even Gaius and his own mother never really could understand how stifling it was to have such a great power, only to keep it hidden and to struggle with how to manage it.

Yet that's what made him uneasy: why had their paths crossed? If experience had taught him anything, it was that everything— _everything—_ had a consequence. What would his involvement in her life mean for the future?

Maybe he should leave, head back to Ealdor like he'd originally planned this morning—what seemed like an eternity ago. It never ceased to amaze him how things could change so drastically and so quickly.

By the gods, if only he'd been born normal.

* * *

_**Thank you for reading!** _

 


	3. All I See

Della watched as Merlin finished cleaning up and then sat on his chair at the table. At one point, he leaned on his arm and now sounded like he'd fallen asleep. After his morning, and all that magic he'd used, she wondered why it had taken him this long.

Ealhwyn's arrival broke the silence and Della was thankful. Though she was accustomed to being alone, usually she could at least sing to herself to avoid the quiet. The last thing she’d wanted to do was disturb Merlin with her less than harmonious singing voice.

Her aunt smiled wide as she came to her bedside. "I'm relieved to see you're awake so soon. I was unsure how quickly you’d heal. It's been so long since I've had to use one that powerful." She busied herself with grabbing a pestle and mortar and gathering ingredients for the comfrey paste.

"Other than soreness, I feel fine. Merlin gave me some stew and tea so I'm not hungry, before you even ask."

"Good, good." She sighed. "So. About our guest...?" She put the comfrey leaves in the mortar and started grinding it as she sat down next to Della.

"What about him?" Della asked. She wasn't sure why Ealhwyn trailed off.

"He had some questions about you. Initially he thought I was the seer. I wasn't going to tell him but I didn't think it right to lie to him either."

"I understand. I wouldn’t want you to do that.” She sighed. “I'm not sure how he took it. We were talking well enough and then—well, I'm not sure." She looked over at him, remembering the brief moment of understanding that had passed between them. "He's so burdened, so lost. I thought I could identify with him for a moment, then he shut down."

"You two are similar in that way. More than you may think." Ealhwyn paused as she pulled out strips of cloth from her medicine bag and began to apply the paste. "I believe today marked the start of your destinies merging."

Della shook her head. "I'm just a village healer who’s cursed with visions. I don't see how that will affect the greatest sorcerer of our time."

Ealhwyn stopped, her gaze serious. Della knew what that look meant: a lecture.

"You know very well that you're more than just a "seer." If you had been raised a Druid—"

"I would've been trained as a Vates, I know, I know."  

"Your gift of prophecy is greater than many who have been trained. You just do not know how to interpret them, how to use them.”

“You keep saying it’s a gift but I’ve yet to experience that aspect of it. All I see is never-ending death of so many. Why should they die and I live?"

Ealhwyn grabbed her hand. “Stop thinking that. You were saved for a reason. I know you refuse to believe it but—“

Movement from the other end of the room stopped her from continuing on.  Merlin raised his arms and stretched and the conversation ended as Ealhwyn addressed him.

“You’ve taken care of our patient well,” Ealhwyn said. “Thank you.”

“Oh,” he said. “Um…you’re welcome.” He stood up and looked out the small window. “I’ve slept too long. I’m sorry.”

“The last thing you need to do is apologize for taking a nap,” Ealhwyn said, finishing with applying paste to the new bandages. “But nightfall is nearly upon us. I do hope you will consider at least staying overnight?”

Della unwillingly tensed. She hoped that if he did, he’d at least talk to her again, or else it would be a very long night.

He hesitated but looked at Della. “I suppose I could stay one night. It’ll be a welcome comfort over having rocks and twigs as my bed.”

Ealhwyn smiled. “Wonderful. I’ll start prepping supper after I finish helping Della here. Now if you don’t mind for a moment, can you avert your eyes?” She gestured for him to turn around.

“Oh, yes, of course. Um actually I need to….” He stopped, scratched the back of his head nervously, and turned a slight shade of red. “I’ll be right back.” He went out the door and Della hid a smile.

“See? He’s just as normal as the rest of us,” Ealhwyn said.

* * *

 

Merlin waited a little longer after he returned before heading back inside the house, making sure to wait until Ealhwyn was done changing Della’s wrappings. His mind wandered back to the snippets of conversation he overheard on the edge of waking.

_All I see is never ending death. Why should they die and I live?_

How much death had she seen? Ealhwyn had said Della was 14 when the visions started. He remembered how hard it was to hide his true self as a youth. He remembered the fear, the isolation. Yet he couldn’t imagine how it would be to see such disturbing visions at such a young age. The few times he’d glimpsed the future had always left him unsettled, even now.

The door opened then, interrupting his thoughts. “Come on in,” Ealhwyn said. Della had moved out of her bed and was sitting at the table.

“Do you need any help with the cooking?” Merlin asked.

“No,” she said. “Besides, you’ve done your share of helping today.”

“Aunt, you really should let me,” Della said.

Ealhwyn turned on her, giving her a look that made Merlin think of Gaius when he argued with him about what was best. “You nearly died this morning. You’re lucky I’m allowing you to sit here instead of remaining in bed.”

“I hate sitting still, you know that. Please, I can at least chop some—“

“One more word of argument and I’ll ask Merlin here to cast a sleeping enchantment on you.” She turned to Merlin. “Won’t you?”

He knew from years of living with Gaius not to argue with that tone. He smiled and looked over at Della, who was turning a slight shade of pink. “Don’t worry, it wouldn’t be a long sleeping spell.”

She smiled shyly. “All right, you both win. This time. But I’m making breakfast tomorrow.”

* * *

 

She was thankful that whatever awkwardness had passed between them hours earlier had dissipated. For a moment, she glimpsed the person beneath the layers of grief and heartache and wondered what he would’ve been like had she met him years before. If her magic had never appeared, if she had been normal, she was certain she’d have crossed paths with him in Camelot, especially on those trips to Gaius’ chambers, reading up on herb lore and modern medicine.

But that was a path that could never be trodden. So here she was now, eating supper across the table from a man broken by years of tragedy. _What would he think of me if I told him all that I’ve seen?_

She wasn’t sure he’d speak to her again. She knew _she_ wouldn’t trust someone who had seen so much—and who she didn’t know but a day.

But he would never know these things. She’d lock it away just as she had with everything else.

Della pushed the thoughts aside and rejoined the conversation. Ealhwyn was talking about her daily interaction with the villagers and the questions they had about Della’s injury and the mysterious stranger seen carrying her.

“I told Mistress Helda a partial truth,” Ealhwyn said. “Half the village knew by the time I left the cottage.”

“I’m surprised the entire village hadn’t known by then, what with Helda’s talk,” Della said.

“Ah, the village busybody,” Merlin said. “I know that type well.”

“Busybody is an understatement,” Della continued. “The woman would make herself invisible and set herself up in every household if she could.”

Merlin stifled a laugh.

“Della, be nice now,” Ealhwyn chided, though she did so with a smile on her face. “She really is a caring woman,” she said to Merlin. “Just…inquisitive.”

Della rolled her eyes as she took a sip of water.

“She also said, and I quote “Well, if that’s what it’ll take for her to get herself married already, who am I to argue”?”

Della choked and she watched as Merlin quickly spit food out of his mouth in surprise.

“That woman—is—unbeliev—able,” Della said, in between coughs. Her face felt like it was on fire. “And why would you see the need to repeat that?”

“I’m just making conversation,” Ealhwyn said. “No one here really thinks that. No need to get all offended by it. You know how she is anyway.” She continued eating.

She looked at Merlin out of the corner of her eye and saw his own face was turning quite scarlet in color too.

She sighed. Sometimes her aunt could be just as tactless as Mistress Helda.

_Thump, thump._ A knock at the door interrupted any further embarrassing conversation. “Now who could that be?” Ealhwyn wiped her hands on her apron and answered the door. “Why Alric, what brings you here?”

“Nerienda’s having the labor pains, ma’am,” the man’s voice was unsteady. “Can you come?”

“Of course! Let me get my bag ready.” Ealhwyn turned back into the house. “Seems Neri’s firstborn wants to come a bit early. Della, can you grab the jar of motherswort and the extra cloth in the cupboard?”

She stood and did as she was told and Ealhwyn went into midwife mode. Her former gaiety was replaced by a straightforward, no-nonsense attitude. “I’ll be back when I can. Merlin, can—“

“Don’t worry, I’ll make sure she doesn’t overextend herself,“ he said. Ealhwyn nodded in thanks, grabbed her cape, threw it over her shoulders and was out the door.

More awkward silence.

“I feel I should apologize for my aunt earlier,” Della said, breaking it. “She shouldn’t have repeated that woman’s words.”

Merlin looked a bit confused. “Don’t be. “ Seeing her puzzled look, he quickly continued. “I mean to say, I thought it was funny.” He smiled.

“Well then, at least one of us did.”

“You didn’t think it was funny?”

Della sighed. “Perhaps a few years ago, when I was younger, I would’ve. But the women of this village are forever trying to get me married off, when there’s no chance of that happening.”

“You don’t want to get married?”

Why was he asking? “It’s not that,” she said. “But it’s this pesky little thing called magic. I’d have to be dishonest with my spouse and I couldn’t live like that, knowing I’d always have to keep that part of me hidden away. And then if children were born with it…” she shook her head. She’d seen how that happened, with her own parents. “It’s better off this way.”

”There was a time when I thought that maybe I could have that life. You know, a wife, kids, a house with a view of the mountains…” he trailed off, lost in memory. “She knew me for what I was. But she’s gone. I nearly left Camelot and Arthur for her.”

She hadn’t expected that. “You must’ve loved her tremendously,” Della said. Part of her heart ached to know that kind of love. “What was her name?”

“Freya,” he continued. “I was young, she was my first and only love. I only knew her for two days before she was killed. She was cursed and turned into a man-eating beast at night. She was killed by Arthur and the knights. They had to do so in order to save innocent lives.”

“Oh! That’s more tragic than I thought.”

“Seems to be the story of my life more often than not.” He tried to smile, but the grief was evident.

“I don’t understand,” Della said. “The amount of people you’ve cared about over the years, lost to death. I don’t know how you can keep going on and not be completely consumed by it.”

“Sometimes I don’t know either,” he said. “I’ve always tried to be hopeful, to think of the future. To be honest, I’m about as lost now as I’ve ever been.” He quickly added, “But don’t worry about me.  I’ll figure it out. I always do.”  

Della wasn’t convinced; she wasn’t sure he truly believed that either. Through all her visions of him and now, after meeting him in person in the space of a few hours, she could already tell he was the type of man to rarely think of himself—even to his detriment.

She stood up slowly and began to grab the dirty bowls and cups. “Wait just a moment,” he said, grabbing her wrist. “Ealhwyn was very clear that you aren’t to exert yourself more than needed.”

She pulled her arm from his grasp. “Washing a few bowls is not exerting myself.” She made her way to the small wooden basin they used for laundry and dishes.

Only two steps in and she suddenly was unable to move her limbs, frozen in place. “What—Merlin, let me go!”

“I was told to stop you if needed. You’re lucky I didn’t cast a sleeping enchantment like your aunt suggested earlier.”

“For the love of—I’m just washing dishes!” She concentrated on trying to break the spell of her own accord. “ _Onbindan.”_ For the briefest of moments, she was able to shuffle one of her feet forward, but not before she felt her muscles bind up even tighter.

“Good try,” Merlin said, coming up next to her and taking the dirty plate from her hands. She never realized how tall he was until he was standing next to her, his blue eyes briefly alight with something akin to mischief. “Now, will you stop being stubborn and sit there while I wash? Or do I have to keep you bound up like this until I’m done?”

She knew very well he was serious. “All right,” she said, frustrated. “Now please, unbind me?”

His eyes flashed gold and her muscles relaxed instantly. She sat back down in her chair as he began to wash the dishes.

As much as she wanted to be angry at him, she admired his sense of duty to protect her. He certainly was dedicated to keeping a promise.

He remained silent as he completed the chore, the only sound in the small cottage that of the sloshing of water in the wash basin.

Della sighed. She was tired of the back and forth awkwardness between them. It was time to remedy that. The last few hours—days even—for either of them had been emotionally and physically draining.

“I don’t know about you,” she began, “but conversation today between us has been rather…heavy and uncomfortable at times. How about we start over?”

He stopped for a moment and looked over at her, intrigued. “I’m not sure what you mean.”

“Let’s pretend neither one of us is shouldered with the burden of destiny. Just talk as Della and Merlin. Two _normal_ people. No talk of magic allowed.”

“That could be a challenge since the secret’s out between us,” he said.

“Perhaps,” she countered. “But it might come easier to you than you think. You’ve been able to keep quiet for years while living in Uther’s shadow, just as I’ve done here in the village.  Now imagine neither one of us has any inclination the other has magic and see what comes up. At the very least it’ll pass the time.” _And break the incessant silence._

He smiled then, and she could almost see relief wash over his features. “I’m up for that.”

* * *

 

He didn’t know why he doubted the ease of slipping back into his old habits of keeping his magic hidden. Maybe it had been because they’d known from the onset both were sorcerers, but pretending they weren’t made for a comforting turn in discussion between them.

She talked of living in the quiet village, learning herb lore and medicine from Ealhwyn over the years. That made him remember his childhood in Ealdor and he recalled the non-magical mischief he used to find himself getting into.

“Something tells me that’s still a part of you,” she said, laughing, her brown eyes shining in the firelight.

“I’ve been known to pull a few pranks in Camelot too,” he said. “Of course they normally got me into trouble. But they were worth it.”

Conversation continued in that vein until the fire began to die down and the sky grew ever darker. Della stifled a yawn and he found himself growing sleepy as well. It had been a welcomed relief to forget the past troubles of the last few days, even if just for a few hours.

“We should probably turn in for the night,” he said. “You need your rest, and I’ll need to be heading to Ealdor early.”

She nodded and for a moment, he saw sadness pass over her face. She hid it quickly by standing up and going about the room. “I’ll make a bed up for you. I’m afraid we don’t have much…” she grabbed some worn blankets from within a cupboard and stopped suddenly, grabbing her side.

Instantly, he was by her side, taking the blankets from her. “I’ve been slacking in my caretaker duties,” he said.  “I’ll make my own bed.”

“Merlin, I—“

He shook his head and she sighed. “Fine,” she conceded as she walked over to the bed, rubbing her injured side. He suspected her bandages would need changed, though Ealhwyn wasn’t back yet. He couldn’t do that—it would be inappropriate—but he could at least make them up for her.

He put down his bedding and walked over to their small apothecary cabinet and looked for the ingredients.

“What are you doing?”

“Making up your new bandages,” he said, grabbing the mortar and pestle. “I know I can’t re-bind you, but I can at least make these up.”

She shook her head slightly and looked down.

“What is it?” He asked, pausing what he was doing.

“I’ve never met someone who is so selfless,” she said, her voice quiet. “You’re truly a remarkable person, Merlin.”

He felt his face warm at her compliment. He was unaccustomed to praise, save from Gaius every so often.

“I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable,” she said, her own face turning a bit pink in the waning firelight. “I just thought you needed to hear that.”

“Thank you,” he said. All the years he’d done such great things that often went unnoticed, never once wanting praise. But it was nice to hear, to feel acknowledged. He had a feeling she meant it more than just putting together her bandages. The look in her eyes when she’d said it, he wondered how much of his life she had truly seen in those visions of hers. Maybe he didn’t want to know.

He finished applying the green comfrey paste to the new bandages and placed them on the chair next to Della’s bed. “I’ll be over here if you need anything,” he said, turning to the opposite wall so as to give her privacy. He decided to put together his makeshift bed in the space next to the table; there really wasn’t any other spot as Ealhwyn’s bed was on the opposite wall. Still it would be more comfortable than sleeping in the forest, and he’d done that so many times over the years.

“I’m almost done,” Della said from across the room. “Then you can—“ she stopped abruptly, her breath catching.

“Della?” He turned his head, still making sure to avert his glance but trying to see in his peripheral vision what caused her to stop. “Do you need help?”

The only answer was a broken gasp and what sounded like her knocking the chair over.

Without hesitation, he quickly made his way over to her side.  A sudden feeling of heaviness came over him, as if the air around her was thicker—almost like an invisible, heavy fog.

His heart beat faster as he quickly grabbed a blanket from her bed and wrapped it around her shoulders. She was sitting on the ground, her head leaning into her arm which was resting on the legs of the overturned chair. She’d managed to finish wrapping her wounds, but her shoulders were bare—as well as her legs.  “Della? Della, answer me,” he said, gently turning her head to face him. “What’s wr—“

He stopped. Her eyes were the ever recognizable brilliant shade of gold, unblinking and focused beyond him, elsewhere, in another time and place. She was eerily still, her body limp.

_She’s having a vision_.  He’d never seen anyone go into catatonic state before—Morgana’s visions had taken place while she slept and his own were always facilitated by crystal or water.

All these years of using magic, of learning its ways, and its mysteries still surprised him.

He held Della close, unsure of what to do. Damn it, why did this have to happen while Ealhwyn was away? All he could do now was hold her and hope that nothing went wrong. He hated sitting here, unable to help.

What seemed like an eternity later, the golden hue of her eyes slowly faded back to brown. She sat up, gasping for breath as if she were under water. Her body shook as she coughed and bent over the floor, retching the contents of her stomach. She brought her hand up to wipe her mouth.

He put a hand on her shoulder. What could he do? He was afraid to hear what she had seen. She put her face in her hands and started weeping. How often did she go through this?

He brought her closer and pulled his other arm around her. She leaned into him, still quiet. Still crying. Then, she pulled away, suddenly aware of her close proximity to him and lack of clothing.

‘’Forgive me,” she said. “I…I am always unsteady after.” She made a move to get up and he grabbed her arm to help her. She shook her head. “Please. I’m fine. I just…need to get dressed. Need to clean up.”

“Are you serious?” He said. “What about what you saw? What about—“

“No!” Her vehemence and fire in her eyes stopped him mid thought. “I can’t—I can’t do this right now.”

“Della, you _need_ to tell me what you saw. You can’t just push it aside.”

She turned on him, her long braid nearly smacking him in the process. “You want to know what I saw? What I _always_ see. Death.” Her voice was exceptionally clear and steady. “I saw this village burning. Saw friends and neighbors crying, screaming, _dying._ I saw a hoarde of Saxons shooting them down, setting roofs on fire.” She went quiet and he almost didn’t hear what she said next.

“And I saw you.”


	4. Yet to Come

Campfires dotted the landscape in the forest at the foot of the mountains. Randel surveyed the group. He estimated close to fifty men. Men, such as he, who desired vengeance for their fallen friends at the hands of the sorcerer who wielded lightning at Camlann.

The memory of his younger brother, taking his last breath in his arms, assailed him. He’d taken the brunt of the shock from the lightning wielded through the sorcerer’s staff. Randel could still feel the secondary burns on his hands and feet that he’d received in passing.

His soldiers had found two men running in the woods just an hour prior, completely unarmed and with fear in their eyes. That same fear he’d seen at Camlann in those who succumbed to the sorcerer’s powers. The men, Sighard and Theabul, had said they lost two of their brethren to a powerful sorcerer in the woods.

“He avoided our arrows with an unspoken flash of his eyes,” Sighard said.

“He conjured up quicksand that nearly swallowed us alive,” Theabul replied.

“What did he look like?” Randel asked.

“He was young,”  Sighard said. “And unassuming. He looked like a simple farm boy…but then….” He closed his eyes. “I can still hear the crunch of Redwald’s bones as he sent him into a tree like a rag doll.”

“This must be a different sorcerer then,” Theabul said. “The man at Camlann was ancient.”

Randel thought about that. Perhaps he was related to the older sorcerer, taught up by him.

Or they were one in the same.

He knew how easily a sorcerer could cast a spell to make themselves change appearance. He’d seen it before in his homeland to the west and here after following Morgana for months. She was dead though, found in the woods not far from here. He couldn’t say he felt particularly remorseful. She had been on the verge of insanity. He only followed her because of what she had promised—land and prosperity.

“Where did you encounter this sorcerer?” Randel asked.

“A few miles south of the lake of Avalon,” Theabul said.

“Any villages nearby?”

“One by the name of Havenswood, about a mile east of the attack.”

“Thank you, my friends,” Randel said. “I am sorry for the losses you endured these past few days. We shall endeavor to make it right.”

And make it right they would. Randel would chase that sorcerer down to the ends of the earth—he would see him squirm and cry out in pain as he lost the ones he loved, just as he did when his closest friends and brothers fell.

Havenswood it was then. That’s where they’d look for this sorcerer—and that’s where his people would feel their retribution.

* * *

 

It came on suddenly, like all the visions ever did. The world faded around her, and a heavy yet invisible fog descended. Then the images, the voices. The ever calling cries in the silence. Cries that went unanswered.

_Fire. So much that she feels the heat of it surround her. The Saxons, dragging people to the center of the village, surrounding them on all sides, bloodlust in their eyes._

_Mistress Helda on her knees. “Please, don’t harm us. We are just farmers, mothers, widows, children—“ Then, slapped across the face, sending her sprawling to the ground._

_The man who hit her, towers over her, his dark brown hair blowing in the wind, the thick fur vest caked in mud and grime. He addresses the rest. “You are hiding a sorcerer. Bring him here before me.”_

_It fades and then she sees a blinding, searing light. Many of the attackers are suddenly thrown from their feet, their bodies immobile once they hit the ground._

_The Saxon leader bellows in rage. “Kill them all!” People are running, crying, trying their best to protect themselves. The remaining Saxons charge forth, swords drawn, attacking as arrows fly through the air._

_The images come faster now, jumbled and disjointed. She sees friends and neighbors bleeding, struck down in the street. Little Melita, her blonde hair matted with blood. Nerienda, the new mother, face down in the mud, still in her shift from giving birth. She feels a scream come from the depths of her soul, so strong the sky itself seems to shake as more Saxons are thrown violently to the ground._

_Then, she sees Merlin, kneeling there on the ground, with a  mud streaked face, a developing bruise on his right cheek. His eyes, full of righteous fury, flash a brilliant gold._

The images blur together, the fog around her lifting. She can breathe again, and her world abruptly came into focus. She had a vague awareness of a blanket thrown over her shoulders and two arms surrounding her, but the sudden shift between reality and the unknown always threw her senses into chaos and the inevitable nausea overwhelmed her.

Quickly she moved forward, her body shaking as her supper makes a second appearance on the dirt floor in front of her. She wiped her mouth, angry and upset about the course of events. A hand is on her shoulder and in a moment, she’s drawn into Merlin’s embrace. For a moment, she lets herself cry and be comforted by his presence.

Then she remembers what she’s wearing: nothing but bandages on her upper half. Immediately propriety takes over and she pushes away, suddenly aware of how inappropriate she was acting.

‘’Forgive me,” she said. “I…I am always unsteady after.” She made a move to get up and he grabbed her arm to help her. She shook her head. “Please. I’m fine. I just…need to get dressed. Need to clean up.”

“Are you serious?” He said. “What about what you saw? What about—“

“No! I can’t—I can’t do this right now.”

“Della, you _need_ to tell me what you saw. You can’t just push it aside.”

She turned on him, her long braid nearly smacking him in the process. “You want to know what I saw? What I _always_ see. Death. I saw this village burning. Saw friends and neighbors crying, screaming, _dying._ I saw a horde of Saxons shooting them down, setting roofs on fire.” The sounds of the villagers’ cries of terror still echoed in her mind. Then, she recalled the image of Merlin standing there, anger shrouding him. She stopped.  “And I saw you.”

He looked confused but concerned. “What do you mean you saw me?”

“I saw you kneeling on the ground, injured…and then your eyes flashed gold. And the vision ended.”

He was silent for a moment and looked away.  He looked like he was thinking, processing what she said.

“All right,” his voice was remarkably calm. “Can you tell when this will take place? In a few days, a few hours…?”

She thought back on the images. The vision of Nerienda, whom Ealhwyn was still assisting at her child’s birth, flashed before her. “It’s going to be soon. Within a day.”

Merlin stood up. “Then we need to warn the villagers. Now.”

“Wait.” She wrapped the blanket around her tighter and stood in front of him. How could she make him understand? “How are you going to do that? Just knock on every door and say, “Della had a vision that the town’s going to be destroyed today.’ They don’t know I have magic, Merlin. If they knew…” she closed her eyes. “They’ve lost so many to sorcery over the last few years already. Their hearts are hardened against anyone who has even a hint of magic.”

“Then I’ll say I had the vision. I’ll show them I’m the sorcerer.”

She shook her head. “Even if you do, I guarantee you they will not listen. Merlin, this will _still happen._ Every vision I’ve ever had has happened the exact way I’ve seen it.”

“Well maybe this is the first time it won’t. There are many different paths, different outcomes—“

“No, you aren’t _listening_.” She was growing frustrated. “That may be the case with most prophets but not with me.”

He crossed his arms, anger and defiance in his eyes. “So you’re telling me you’re just going to sit here and let these people be massacred? The very villagers who are your neighbors and your friends. You’re not even going to give them a chance? All because you’re worried how they will react when they find out there’s a sorcerer here?”

She could feel her own frustration bubbling up. “That’s not it at all. You don’t—“

The door opened then, stopping them both in the middle of their argument. Ealhwyn walked in and shut it behind her. “What’s this now? I heard raised voices before I even got to the door.” She pushed a few strands of her graying hair out of her face and Della saw the exhaustion from the last few hours written in her eyes. “Della?”

Della took a shaky breath. “I had another vision.”

Ealhwyn came to her and grabbed her hand. “Tell me, child, what did you see?”

She swallowed, afraid she wouldn’t be able to get the entire summary out. “We’re all in grave danger, aunt. I saw…I saw the village on fire, the people dying, shot down by Saxons.”

“And she saw me,” Merlin said. “At the end of her vision, I was there.” He paused and continued, speaking faster, the words tumbling out. “She says that her vision cannot be changed. But we need to at least try to warn the people. I’ll tell them I’m the one who saw it, show them I’m the sorcerer, that way Della can keep her secret and live here in peace. ”

Della continued. “I told him it’s not that easy. If anything they will demand he leave immediately.”

Ealhwyn remained silent in contemplation. “I am going to support Merlin on this.”

“What?” Had exhaustion made her aunt stop thinking clearly? “Aunt, you know it will be for naught. My visions never change and you know the villagers, how they—“

Ealhwyn held her hand up which stopped Della mid-thought. “I know you’re remembering what happened four years ago with the Dorocha. But the least we can do is attempt to stop it. If they choose not to listen, we will proceed from there.”

Merlin interjected. “What happened last time?”

Della shut her eyes, trying to block out the memory. It was one of the worst moments of her life. She remembered it as if it were only yesterday, remembered the screams of the wraiths as they attacked at nightfall, as they killed much of the village.

Ealhwyn saw her distress and continued. “Della had a vision of the veil between the worlds torn apart. She saw the Morgana open it. Then she saw families here struck down, the light fading from their eyes as the Dorocha consumed them.”

“And I couldn’t do a damn thing about it,” Della said. “I didn’t warn them because I knew the outcome…I knew that I couldn’t change it or prevent them from coming.”

“That was different,” Merlin said, his voice quiet. “The Dorocha were nearly unstoppable until—“

“Until a life was sacrificed,” Della finished. “I know that as well. I saw you and Arthur and the knights in front of the veil. I saw you screaming and watched as one sacrificed himself to close the tear.”

Merlin remained silent. She saw hesitation and disbelief in his eyes. _He’s realizing I’ve seen him in my visions more than I let on._

“Della, we have to try this time,” Ealhwyn said. “I agreed with you then, but this may yet be preventable.”

“What makes you think that? Nothing we do is going to change it--if anything, it will happen because of it.” She knew she sounded fatalistic, but after years of seeing things she hadn’t been able to change, it was hard to feel anything otherwise.

“Well, I’m going to warn them regardless,” Merlin said. “I can’t hold onto this knowledge and wait for a massacre to occur when there’s even the smallest possibility it can change.”

“Fine,” Della said. “I give up trying to convince you. Just ignore me and every past experience I’ve had. But don’t be surprised when you encounter resistance and find things play out exactly how I’ve said.”

Merlin shook his head and didn’t say anything else. He went out the door without another word.

Ealhwyn embraced her and kissed her forehead. “Try and be hopeful.” She let go and left the cottage.

Della let out a ragged breath and fought the tears that threatened to come. She wished she could be hopeful, but she knew, deep down to the core of her being, that nothing would change.

* * *

 

Merlin walked with Ealhwyn to the village leader’s household. The night air was heavy with a fine mist, making everything damp and cool. The heaviness in the air matched what Merlin sensed was on the horizon. Though he was no seer, the conviction with which Della spoke rattled him. But there was something else too—what she had said about the Dorocha. That was years ago, yet she had seen him then as well. How many years had she had visions with him in it?

Damn prophecies.

“Be ready for whatever reaction awaits,” Ealhwyn said. “Della is right about how the villagers react to magic. Top that with us waking them in the middle of the night and well….”

“I’ll take my chances if it means one life is saved.”

“And if it doesn’t change a thing?” Ealhwyn countered. “If destiny is set in stone?”

He hesitated, thinking back to everything that led up to Arthur’s death. How much he tried to prevent it, only for it to still happen regardless. Was this another instance of a similar fate? _I have to try._ “I’ve made so many mistakes in the past. I don’t want this to be another one.”

They stopped in front of the village leader’s door, a man by the name of Oswin. “Are you ready?” Ealhwyn asked.

Merlin nodded.

Ealhwyn knocked on the door. Merlin could hear snoring stop for moment, then start up again. She knocked again. This time the sound stopped and there were voices. He heard the man swear. “Father…who’s knocking now?” He heard a boy’s sleep-weary voice.

The door opened and a tall man greeted them, with gray hair at his temples and mixed in with the brown of his beard. He squinted in the firelight of Ealhwyn’s rush torch. “Ealhwyn…what brings you here at this hour?” He looked over at Merlin, hesitation crossing his brow. “What’s wrong?”

Ealhwyn’s took a breath. “I’m afraid a great deal. And you may not like how it’s come about.” She looked at Merlin. “We must speak with you and the other elders.”

“Are you bloody serious? It’s the dead of night!”

“This concerns the safety of everyone in this village, so yes, Oswin I am bloody serious.” Her tone was even but held a ferocity in it that made Merlin see the woman in a new light.

Oswin’s former irritation quickly turned to concern. “All right. Let me get dressed.” He eyed Merlin again and what former resolve he had earlier was fading.

He felt the familiar mental tug of an unspoken message. Ealhwyn’s voice echoed in his head. _If they ask, keep your identity a secret. They do not need to know your tie to Arthur or to the recent battle._

_Understood._ He doubted they would believe that anyhow.

Oswin emerged from the cabin moments later. “Let’s go.” He said nothing more and Merlin made sure to keep his distance. They walked in silence as they went to the other cottages—each member of the elders slightly more hesitant and more irritated. Merlin made sure to remain in the background but he never missed the suspicion in each man’s eyes as they looked at him.

They reached the fourth and final elder’s house, which they used as their gathering place. It belonged to an older, balding man named Algar, with a hawkish nose and equally harsh eyes.

“What’s the stranger doing here, Ealhwyn?” he asked.  

“I am wondering the same myself,” said the second elder, a younger man named Edward. “Does this have to do with him and the incident in the woods with Della?” He eyed him suspiciously and for a brief moment, Merlin detected jealousy in his tone. “Is she doing all right? Many of us have been worried about her.”

“She’s recovering well, Edward,” Ealhwyn said. “And in some ways, yes it has to do with yesterday’s incident.” She nodded to Merlin. “Our friend here has some important information regarding the men who attacked.”

“And does our friend have a name?” asked the final elder, Bernard.

“My name is—Will.” Merlin caught himself using the first name that came to mind. _Sorry, Will._ Once again, his childhood friend hid Merlin’s true self.  “And the men weren’t just bandits—they were Saxons.”

“We knew this already,” Edward said. “Just two rogue soldiers that weren’t chased off by Camelot’s knights. Unfortunately Della was in the wrong place at the wrong time. I—er, we—are all grateful you were there to help. ”

_Back to her again, I see._ This Edward fellow definitely fancied her.

“Though I still don’t know how you,” he looked Merlin up and down, “managed to kill two much larger and heavily armed men. ”

“That is a very good question,” Oswin said. “Are you a knight in disguise? Or…what?”

Merlin was amazed at how attuned these folk were. Ten years in Camelot and Arthur and most of the knights never had any suspicions, despite the number of scrapes he managed to get out of miraculously. They must’ve been more oblivious—or just willfully blind.

He didn’t want to come right out and say it just yet. He wanted to see if they could deduce it on their own. “Perhaps I am just a really good fighter.”

All four men laughed. Hard.

Ealhwyn just rolled her eyes in response. _Ignore them._ She said telepathically.

_Prats. The lot of them._ “All right then,” Merlin said. “I’d like to know what you think happened.”

The men stopped laughing and  grew quiet, exchanging glances with one another. Bernard spoke up. “There’s been talk that maybe…maybe it was sorcery.” The three nodded in response and looked at Merlin.

“Though you don’t exactly _look_ like a sorcerer,” Edward said.

Merlin suppressed an eye roll. “And what exactly does a sorcerer look like, Edward?” This man was really getting under his skin with all his presumptions and judgments about him.

“I don’t know, just not…you. I mean, don’t take it the wrong way, but you just look like a man off the farm.”

_If only._  Merlin thought. It was time to end this guessing game and show them already. They were wasting time. “Well, it looks like you’re wrong this time,” he said. He opened his hand. “ _Forbærnan.”_ The small fire ball hovered above his hand. Just as quickly, he closed his palm, the light fading. “Now do I look like a simple farmer?”

Silence. Then, “What do you want with us, sorcerer?” Algar asked. He turned to Ealhwyn, who had been quiet in the corner for much of the time. “You knew?”

“Of course I knew,”Ealhwyn said. “His magic _saved_ Della. She likely would’ve died from her injuries if not for him.”

“But a _sorcerer_!” Oswin said. “You know…you know how this town has been destroyed by that evil! My wife and daughter were victims of it, Ealhwyn. You remember don’t you?”

“Not all magic is evil,” Merlin interrupted. “Not all magic users are—“

“Enough from you,” Oswin pointed at him. “Why did you wake us all up in the middle of the night to show us this? He needs to leave _immediately.”_

Ealhwyn looked apologetically at Merlin. “You need to hear what he has to say.”

“I don’t want to hear it!” Oswin said.

“Neither do I,” Edward chimed in. “It’s likely lies.”

Merlin’s irritation became anger. “Are you serious? I know you’ve all been hurt before by magic—so have I—many times—but what I have to tell you affects the lives of everyone here in this village. People are going to die if—”

“So now you threaten us?”

_Poor choice of words, you idiot._ Merlin chastised himself. “I promise you, I am not going to harm you. I’m trying to _save_ your stubborn, prejudiced arses!”

That shut them up, at least for the moment. Bernard spoke up. “Let him talk. It must have merit enough for Ealhwyn to have us gathered at this unconventional hour.”

Finally a voice of reason, Merlin thought.

Oswin grumbled. “Fine. But be quick.”

He took a breath, trying to remember everything Della said, trying to decide what needed told and what needed kept behind. “I had a vision. There are more Saxons coming, dozens in fact. They’re coming to raid the village. It will likely happen in less than a day.”

The men looked unconvinced—just as Della had said.

“This “vision”—how can we trust it?” Edward said. “How do we know it’s not some setup?”

“I agree,” Algar said. “Maybe you’re working for them and this is all part of your plan. Have us all leave the safety of our homes only to ambush us.”

Merlin shook his head. “Why? Why on earth would I do that?”

“Oh I don’t know,” Oswin said. “Why did the witch Morgana align herself with them? For power. For revenge. We may not live in the royal city itself, but we—the simple farmers and craftsman out here in the forests—we have often borne the brunt of her curses. We know how she would’ve done anything to burn this kingdom to the ground, how many innocents are dead because of her. How do we know you weren’t trained up to take her place?”

Merlin clenched his fists. The treachery of Morgana never ended. How could he get through to these people? “Is there no way I can gain your trust?”

Ealhwyn chimed in. “If what he says is true, Havenswood could be completely destroyed. Do you want to see that?”

The men were stoic in their resolve. “To be honest, Ealhwyn, I am surprised by you,” Oswin said. “How can you trust him so implicitly? He is a stranger. He may have saved your niece, but I don’t put it past _his kind_ to have set it all up as an elaborate ruse.”

Merlin tossed up his hands in frustration. “You know what? I’m done here. I’ve tried to warn you. If you choose not to listen, then so be it.”

He turned around and left the cottage, frustrated at their unwillingness to listen.  He underestimated just how hardened they were against magic. He wondered if a similar attitude was pervasive throughout the kingdom. If so, how much of this was on his head? So many times, he could’ve admitted the truth about himself to Arthur.  He could’ve shown how magic could be used for good. _Could’ve, would’ve, should’ve._

Frustration towards the elders turned into frustration at himself. All they had seen recently was the evil precipitated by people such as Morgana. His own hesitance led to this.

And now, even more blood would be on his hands.

* * *

 

Della sat in the waning firelight, waiting anxiously for Ealhwyn and Merlin’s return. She chewed on her already nonexistent nails in anticipation. Would they be successful in convincing the leaders of the village about the danger? She wanted to hope for the best, but expected the worst.

As if in answer to her thoughts, Merlin strode through the door, his worn brown jacket damp from the mist. The look on his face told her all she needed to know, yet she asked anyway.

“How did it go?”

He glanced at her and looked away. “Exactly how you said it would: they wouldn’t listen. In fact, they all but accused me of coming up with an elaborate plan, saying that I was working with the attackers in the woods this morning from the start.” He shook his head in disbelief and sat down across from her, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “They also demanded I leave immediately. Everything you warned me about. And I didn’t listen. Again. You’d think I’d learn after all these years…” he shut his eyes, his voice catching.

Instinctively, Della reached across the table and put her hand over his. “You were only trying to help. Please, do not blame yourself for their inability to listen.”

“That’s the thing,” he said. “I _should_ blame myself for it. Their reaction to sorcery has been building up through the constant misuse of magic, specifically from Morgana herself. There were so many times I could’ve stopped her…but I waited. Maybe it was me hoping she had some small bit of compassion left from the girl I first met when I came to Camelot. I don’t know. But it all comes back to me and my mistakes.”

“You cannot shoulder the burden of all the world’s problems, Merlin. You are just one man.”

“A man with the destiny of Albion placed upon him.”

What else could she say? She knew he did have a weight upon him that no one else had. But to believe everything that went wrong was his fault? She wished she could convince him otherwise.

The door opened and Ealhwyn came in. Della realized her hand was still on top of Merlin’s and removed it quickly. Ealhwyn didn’t seem to notice as she sat down and sighed.

“I tried my best to convince them after you left,” Ealhwyn said. “But they claimed I was likely under a spell.”

Merlin threw his hands up in the air in frustration.

“They also demanded you leave at morning’s first light,” she continued.

“And how exactly can four stubborn fools make me do that?” Merlin said. “If I’m as evil and as cunning as they think, what exactly can they do? Chase me out with a pitchfork?” He had a point. “I’m not leaving. I’ll take my chances with them. If the Saxons are on the horizon, the entire village will be slaughtered. No one will stand a chance.”

“And I completely agree,” Ealhwyn said. “I told them you were still a guest in my home and if they wanted you to leave, they would have to burn the house down. They didn’t argue with me after anymore, though I suspect we may have the entire village at our door tomorrow.”

“So,” Della said. “What do we do now?”

“Now,” Ealhwyn said. “Now we prepare ourselves as best as we can for a fight. And we wait for the inevitable.”


	5. Attack on Havenswood

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains some violence. Just a quick warning!

The first sign of dawn colored the horizon, the light reflecting off the glass bottles of tonic on Ealhwyn's medicinal shelf. The light broke Della out of her half slumber. She had drifted into a half awake reality, the images of her vision twisting themselves into demons and shadowy figures with no faces.

Both Merlin and Ealhwyn were still asleep. Merlin had fallen asleep with his head on the table again, reminiscent of the day before. Della's gaze drifted over to her aunt. She succumbed to her exhaustion from helping Nerienda deliver her child, her head resting in the crook of her arm. Tears stung her eyes as she remembered her vision, seeing the new mother lifeless on the ground. She choked back a sob, hating herself for seeing such horrors that she could not prevent.

The sound broke Merlin from his own half slumber. He lifted his head and focused on the shafts of light coming in from the slatted window. "Dawn already." He turned back to her. "Have you slept at all?"

She shakes her head. "I couldn't. I was haunted by…" She knew she couldn't finish the thought without crying.

"I'm so very sorry that you have this burden," he said, his voice barely audible. His words had years of weight and pain behind them and she knew all too well he speaks from experience. Experience she wished neither of them had. "We will do what we can to save as many—"

He didn't finish as the sound of a lone scream in the distance carried through the window followed by the unmistakable battle cries of dozens of men.

Della's stomach dropped at the sound and she was certain she would've thrown up if she'd had any food left in her stomach. This was happening much faster than she'd thought.

Ealhwyn immediately woke up, her eyes hazy, yet alert. Merlin stood up just as fast and went for the door, but Della grabbed his arm. "Don't! Not yet. Please."

"I have to try and stop them," he said, almost frantic. "I need to—"

"They're looking for _you,_ Merlin." Della said. He stopped, confusion in his eyes. "The whole reason they came here was to find you."

"Why didn't you tell me this?" His confusion turned to anger. "If they just wanted me, I could've met them away from here. Why did you keep this from me?"

"I…I don't know," Della said, frantically trying to find the words. "Because I have a feeling they won't be satisfied with you handing yourself over. I think there's something more sinister behind it. I…I can't be certain, I didn't see it, but—"

Merlin pulled his arm out of her grasp as the cries of the half awake villagers mingled in with the shouts of Saxons. The smell of fire wafted through the window. "I'm not waiting a moment longer. I have to do what I can. _Now. "_ He turned away and attempted to leave but this time Ealhwyn stood in front of him.

"Your time will come," she said. "But let's not be hasty. From the sounds of it, they will be at our door in a matter of moments."

"Moments that I could be doing something!" He tried to maneuver around her but she blocked him further.

"Do you not remember Della's vision?" Ealhwyn said.

"The parts she didn't withhold," he said. She didn't mistake the edge in his voice.

"They're gathering everyone in one spot. If you act now, it is likely the bloodshed will be greater. If we are all in one spot, so will they be. You will be able to better defend and attack there won't you?"

Della held her breath. Would he see Ealhwyn's sense? Or act rashly like she'd known him to do from past visions?

"All right," he said, begrudgingly. "You make a valid point. It will be difficult, but I can try and cast a shield around the villagers."

At that moment, the unmistakable voices of the Saxons echoed outside. The door was kicked in repeatedly and Della held back a scream. Ealhwyn came to her side immediately. "Remember to be brave this day," she said. "Much will change from here on."

The words were strangely prophetic and a chill went down Della's spine. Before she could even think to ask what was meant by it, the door was fully kicked in and three Saxons rushed in. She could tell Merlin was struggling to contain his magic by the dark look in his eyes. She'd only ever seen that look briefly in the woods and it in itself was distressing.

"Don't fight us and you may survive," one of the Saxons said. One Saxon grabbed each of them and led them out of the cottage.

"Perhaps a few of you will be lucky to come back as brides," said the one holding her arm, giving her a squeeze and smiling at her as his gaze traveled over her body. She held back the urge to spit on him or set his arm alight with fire like the attacker in the woods.

Almost instantly, the man fell to the ground, a distinctive snap of bone echoing around them. "My ankle!"

Sure enough, the man's foot was twisted in an unnatural direction. His two companions rushed to his side, as well as a few others who were ushering out villagers from their homes. Della looked at Merlin, who pointedly looked away. Ealhwyn looked at him too. Before either could say any more, a new group of Saxons came forth and began pushing them down the street. "Move it! Now!" They didn't argue and thankfully, none other attempted to escort them physically.

As they walked together, the images from her mind's eye sprang to life in front of her. Some of the cottages were already burning and embers of the thatched roofs filled the air. She watched as friends and neighbors were being pushed down the street to one spot, where they were congregated.

She spotted Edward, one of the young leaders of village, with a rapidly developing bruise over his eye and the head elder Oswin bracing his son's shoulders. Oswin glanced over at her and then saw Merlin. Their eyes met and Oswin looked away, a mix of shame and anger in his eyes.

Della watched as Merlin shook his head. "If they had just listened to me, we could've gotten most of the people to safety," he said, just loud enough for her to hear.

"I know." What else could she say?

Tears from women and children surrounded them as the Saxons roughly pushed them into the ever growing group.

Della reached for his hand, to get his attention. His palm was sweaty and his brow had a light sheen of perspiration. "They don't just want your blood," she whispered. "They want you to watch as they slaughter everyone."

His nostrils flared and he let out a breath. "Not if I can help it. It will be their blood on the ground before this is over."

Mistress Helda collapsed into a heap a few feet from her. "Please, don't harm us. We are just farmers, mothers, widows, children—"

Then the slap Della knew was coming…and the man from the vision, looking exactly how she'd seen him, his fur vest covered with dried mud, his face streaked with sweat and grime.

"You are hiding a sorcerer. Bring him here before me."

She fully expected the elders to call him out but to their credit they remained silent. Instead, Merlin stepped forward on his own accord, letting go of her hand. She hadn't realized she was still holding on and now it was all she could do not to call out to him to stop.

The events were unfolding fast and she wasn't sure what to do now. Merlin would attack soon, that she knew and then—

"I am the man you're looking for," he said, his voice unwavering. "Whatever issue it is you have is with me alone, not these people."

The leader's eyes squinted as he assessed him. He clearly didn't believe him; Merlin was unassuming and Della figured the man had envisioned someone else.

"Theabel, Sigard," the man said, addressing the soldiers. Two men came from behind and Della's heart stopped.

She reached out for Ealhwyn. "Those two attacked me yesterday. Merlin showed them mercy…."

Ealhwyn squeezed her hand in reply.

The leader continued. "Is this the man you saw in the woods yesterday?"

"Yes Randel, sir," the taller one said. "But there's another."

The leader—Randel—smiled and Della's breath caught. Ealhwyn's grip tightened. She had not foreseen this.

Randel turned back to the crowd. "It appears there's another sorcerer among you, according to my friends here."

Della felt confusion sweep the crowd. They all knew already who the mysterious sorcerer was—but they also knew she was the one out in the woods with Merlin.

Ealhwyn had been right: nothing would ever be the same from this day forth. Her secret would be known, but would it save the village from destruction?

She let go of her aunt's hand and walked up to stand next to Merlin. A gasp went through the crowd collectively. He looked down at her, sadness in his eyes. "I'm guessing you didn't see this coming," he said quietly.

She shook her head. "No. I didn't." Her years of hiding her true nature, gone in an instant.

Voices of the villagers called out behind her.

"Della?"

"Is it true? Are they lying?"

"It can't be!" She heard Edward's voice call out. "She's no witch!"

Many voices called out similar things.

"Quiet!" Randal's voice roared out among the din. "Theabul, is this the girl then that lit your companion's arm on fire and sent you airborne with a single cry?"

Theabul's eyes darkened in recognition and she couldn't mistake the look of vengeance. "I would recognize her anywhere."

Anger mixed with fear overcame her and the words came tumbling out. "Let your friends' blood be on your own head! If you had left me alone he would still be alive, you disgusting brute!"

Theabul strode forth, ready to attack, but Randel put out a hand to stop him. He turned towards her. "You've quite the sharp tongue, little woman. But not for long." He gestured to a few men behind them. "Restrain them."

The men made their way only a half-step forward. Merlin let them no closer. She watched his eyes glow gold as he pushed his hand forward towards the men. They were airborne in a moment, one landing painfully on top of an empty wheelbarrow and the others knocked out by the sheer force.

Everything played out so fast; she had barely a chance to think before the next events occurred. In a flash, Merlin was casting another spell.

" _Shieldan!"_

An intangible shield formed around the group of villagers huddled in the center. Randel roared in indignation as chaos ensued. In another instant, as Merlin held the shield with his left hand, his eyes looked towards the sky and as he extended his right hand, dark clouds began to form and swirl above them. She knew what was coming next and she stayed still behind him.

Evidently Randel did as well. "Kill him before he calls down the lightning!"

A strong instinct rose within her. _Protect him_. He wouldn't be able to split himself three ways. She felt the power growing deep within her chest as she instinctively called forth the only bit of elemental magic she knew: fire. It traveled through her, warming her arms as she felt it coalesce at the tips of her fingers, begging to be called forth.

" _Cume fyrbryne."_ She directed the spell towards the six or seven men charging towards them. A line of fire appeared in front of where she was standing and raced towards the men. They had little time to react as it trailed up their legs like snakes and lit their clothes on fire. Screams of agony rent the air as some collapsed to the ground and others ran in attempt to quell the flames consuming them.

Della collapsed to her knees, shaking from the sheer amount of magic she used. Never had she cast such a strong spell and it left her momentarily light headed.

The spell had given Merlin the time he needed to summon the lightning. The sky above them was black now and the dozens of men surrounding the villagers looked up in alarm.

The lightning spilled forth in a blinding, searing light. Another aspect of her vision played before her eyes and half the Saxons were thrown from their feet. Her attackers from the previous day were lifeless on the ground, their eyes frozen in fear toward the sky.

Somehow though, Randel survived. He was thrown back, but managed to avoid the full blast of the lightning strike. He stumbled forth on unsteady legs, his eyes full of murderous fury. Most of his men were paralyzed or killed from the lightning.

"Kill them all!" he bellowed in rage. "Every last person in this forsaken village!"

Merlin still maintained the shield, but the people's fear was too great. Many started running out from the shield's protection. "No! Don't run!" He yelled. He turned to Della. "I can't save them if they run!"

"Stop!" Della called out. "Stay where you are!"

But no one heard her as they ran, the remaining Saxons pursuing them, swords drawn and arrows released.

Merlin dispelled the shield and aimed his attention on Randel charging for him, weaponless from the lightning strike. _He's too close!_ Della thought. The robust man collided with Merlin, tackling him to the ground before she could think of a spell.

Randel punched him once in the face. A deep yell came from Merlin and its reverberation knocked her to her knees as Randel was sent crashing into the outer wall of a nearby house.

So much was happening around her, she wasn't sure what to do. Then she remembered her aunt. Where had she run to? _I have to find her!_

Della stood up and ran through the ensuing chaos, trying not to look at the casualties surrounding her. A body suddenly fell next to her and she let out a startled cry. It was Oswin, the village leader. An arrow was stuck through his chest and from the look of it, pierced his heart directly.

People were running, falling, desperately fighting back in the last throes of death. She continued to run, searching for Ealhwyn. She came across little Melita, her blonde hair matted with blood. Tears clouded her sight as she thought about how the little one's life was cut violently short. She saw Nerienda then, in front of the door to her house, face down in the mud, blood from a sword wound in her back. Only a mother for a matter of hours before death claimed her.

She may not have struck the death blows but she felt as if each death were indirectly caused by her hand. _I should've been the one to warn them._ The weight of the guilt she felt for each life lost nearly brought her to her knees. For the briefest of moments, she wished for a Saxon to come upon her and cut her down.

But she knew that wouldn't happen as things had yet to come that she had foreseen. Death wouldn't claim her this day, even if part of her wished for it.

Then she spotted Ealhwyn across the alley, facing a Saxon. " _Ástríce!"_ Ealhwyn called out the ever familiar stunning spell and her attacker was sent airborne, landing on his neck and killing him instantly.

"Aunt!" Della yelled. Ealhwyn turned and smiled in relief. Immediately, shame washed over Della for selfishly wanting death and leaving her aunt behind. She ran towards her, reassured to see her safe and pushing aside her previous thoughts.

Suddenly, a man carrying a crossbow appeared from around the corner. "Cursed sorceress!" He took aim at Ealhwyn and released the arrow.

She couldn't stop what was coming, couldn't redirect the arrow's path heading towards Ealhwyn. It struck her in the lower abdomen and she gasped in pain and collapsed to the ground.

"NO!" Della screamed. Anger raced through her veins like rivers of fire. The call of the element burned within her, and her anguish manifested as a fireball within her hands. "Forbænan!"

The Saxon's eyes went wide in fear. He dropped his crossbow and turned to run but not before Della directed the fireball at him. It hit him square in the back and knocked him to the ground, leaving a searing, fiery hole just below his rib cage, exposing bone to air.

Della turned away from dead Saxon and kneeled in the mud next to Ealhwyn. Her eyes weren't clouded over with the shroud of death yet, but their light has certainly begun to fade.

"Please, stay with me!" She tried to keep her voice steady. "This…this wasn't supposed to happen. You aren't supposed to die here!" She cradled her aunt's head.

Ealhwyn smiled weakly. "It was…to be," she coughed "You…Emrys. Always meant…." Della had no idea what she meant. She did not want to confront the possibility that Ealhwyn had known about this day for years.

Ealhwyn grabbed her hand and weakly squeezes it. "Be strong my girl. For you. For him. Be…" she coughed and gasped and the final bit of light in her eyes faded away.

"No, come back, aunt! Don't leave me!" The grief was too much.

She had always known this would all end with a scream from the depths of her soul.

* * *

Merlin watched as everything unraveled before him. The chaos of Della's vision had indeed come to pass, despite everything.

He needed to focus now on dispatching the remaining Saxons before the entire village was destroyed.

There weren't many left. Most had been killed from the lightning and from Della's surprisingly strong fire spell. No one faced him now; Randel was motionless on the ground and the other men had gone for the defenseless villagers.

_I'll find them myself._

And that he did. The remaining dozen or so were chasing the remaining villagers into the woods. He hadn't the strength left to conjure another lightning spell. However, the air was full of fire and ember from some of the burning cottages.

He used an old spell, one he had used many years ago when fighting the Afanc in the crypts below Camelot. " _Lyft forhienan wiðere."_ The wind picked up and he directed it towards the fire. It coalesced into a fiery whirlwind which he now aimed at the soldiers.

A few had seen it coming and went running off into the woods, dropping their weapons behind them. But the fire descended on the remaining soldiers, consuming them in entirety. The smell of burning human flesh was immediate and it turned Merlin's stomach. Part of him felt immense sadness of such a loss of life. How many of these men had families? Yet they had come here and killed without a thought.

The words of Kilgharrah came back to the forefront of his mind. _"Your determination to see goodness in people will be your undoing."_ That had indeed been the case, too many times, even recently. He had been merciful to Della's two remaining attackers and they had led this army straight to the villagers—and likely irreparably damaged Della's reputation and future in Havenswood.

He couldn't risk being merciful this time.

His thoughts were interrupted by a soul wrenching cry. It shook the air around him. His heart stopped. He recognized that yell. _Della._

Immediately, he found himself running towards the call. His surroundings blurred together around him; he was focused on one thing and one thing only: heading towards her.

He turned a corner around one of the villagers' houses and came to a halt. His stomach dropped. _No!_

There was Della, sitting in the mud, cradling her aunt, with an obviously fatal arrow in her abdomen. Ealhwyn's eyes were dark, turned up to the sky, her soul having departed for the afterlife.

Della's head bent towards her aunt's. Her shoulders were shaking with the weight of her heart wrenching sobs. He choked back his own cry. He may not have known Ealhwyn more than a day, but the loss stabbed at him as great as any he'd experienced.

In his own sorrow, he didn't notice the danger heading for him. The _thunk_ of an arrow released from a crossbow broke through his grief. He turned towards the sound. The arrow was inches from his head, but he managed to barely redirect it with a flash of instinctual magic.

Not soon enough though. The sharpened iron arrowhead dug out the flesh along his cheekbone below his right eye. He cried out in pain and lost his balance as he fell on his left arm in a heap of mud, weakened from the sheer amount of magic he'd used in such a short time.

His attacker was none other than the Saxon leader. He had assumed the force of his sonic yell and the forceful crash into the side of a house would've prevented him from rising. Randel was definitely wounded greatly, and he watched the man drag his left leg behind him and wince with each step.

"I underestimated you," Randel said, his breathing that of an injured man. "But even you in your great power can be thrown down in the mud like the swine you are." He tossed the crossbow aside and drew his sword, which he'd apparently found again after the initial attack. "You and your little witch will see the fires of hell this day!"

Merlin tried to summon the strength for another stunning spell. The magic tried to pool together around him as he aimed it at Randel's charging form. However, it only pushed him back a few feet in the mire. Randel managed to continue forward a moment later.

He lifted his sword, ready for the attack. But, before the sword could come down, Merlin heard a high pitched battle cry. Randel started to turn his head toward the sound but the attacker sliced him through first, with the ever familiar crunch of a sword slicing through flesh. A sword tip protruded from the front of Randel's stomach, and his eyes bulged out in shock as he dropped his sword, blood pouring from his mouth and his stomach.

"You're wrong," Della's voice had an edge he'd never heard before. "Enjoy hell on my behalf." She yanked the sword out and Randel gurgled and fell forward as Merlin pushed himself out of the way of the man's falling form.

It took a moment for him to process what happened. He stared at Della, his mouth agape. The righteous fury in her eyes faded away as she dropped the sword next to Randel's lifeless body. Now she looked empty and lost, perhaps comprehending all that had occurred in the last few moments.

"Della?" he called to her. Suddenly she was at his side, kneeling in the mud next to him, her eyes on the gash on his face. The gash he only just remembered was there—hurting like hell.

"You're bleeding," she said, matter-of -factly. Her healer instinct took over and he watched as she quickly ripped a strip from the hem of her blood stained dress and folded the strip in half to make it thicker. "Here." She brought the cloth up to his face and applied pressure the wound.

Merlin winced. He watched as Della closed her eyes and recognized another magic user's attempt to conjure up energy for a spell. " _þurhhæle licsare."_

Slowly, the sting of his wound stopped. "Thank you," he said. "For this. And for…" he gestured towards Randel. "I couldn't seem to bring up enough magic to deal with him myself."

She nodded blankly, her eyes now welling up with unshed tears. "I did what needed done," she said. She closed her eyes and sighed. "Your wound isn't healed completely. I didn't have enough energy left after everything." She swallowed and he saw her hands were shaking.

"I couldn't save her," she continued. "I couldn't save Ealhwyn." She buried her head in her hands. "So much death…I saw it and I couldn't stop it. I couldn't…." She started sobbing, all the emotion coming out in a torrent of tears.

Without a thought, he took her in his arms and embraced her, lending as much comfort as he could. He said nothing, but found himself crying for her and the cruelty of the day's events.

All the magic in the world couldn't heal a broken heart.

* * *

_Chapter song: The Bond of Sacrifice, from Merlin series 4 soundtrack_

* * *

__


	6. The Path Ahead

She didn't know how long she cried. The surroundings bled away, just as she felt her will to live leave her with each tear that fell. Yet she took what little comfort she could just being held by Merlin.

The grim reality soon broke through to her though, realizing all that occurred around them. The villagers were returning to their broken town, their grief stricken cries echoing around them. The smell of fire grew stronger and she knew, if they didn't do something soon, many of the houses would burn and the remaining survivors would also be homeless.

He must have sensed it as well for they pulled out of their embrace nearly at the same time. His eyes were red rimmed and he looked at her with a sorrow that threatened to break her heart again.

"Fire," she managed to choke out. "The houses—"

He nodded once and helped her up from the mud. "I'll do what I can." He wavered on his legs as he stood up and she knew he was weak from all of his magic use already.

"Is there a way I can help?" She asked.

He shook his head. "Just tend to Ealhwyn. I'll be back to help you." He squeezed her arm gently in reassurance and set off in the direction of the burning houses.

Della turned back to see her aunt's body lying in the mud. Her vision clouded with tears as she walked over and bent down next to her again. Ealhwyn looked to the sky in her eternal sleep with peace in her features. For a brief moment, Della envied Ealhwyn's departure for the afterlife. She berated herself for such thoughts and gently shut her eyes, choking back another sob.

The deadly arrow still protruded from Ealhwyn's stomach. " _Álúcan."_ She extracted the arrow magically in a similar way as she had yesterday with her own wound. She tossed it aside angrily, fresh tears falling onto Ealhwyn's bloodied apron.

"It's all my fault," Della said. "You're dead because of me."

"You're damn well right it's your fault!"

She turned around in the mud to see Melita's mother, Ailis standing there—and holding her dead daughter in her arms. "You brought these attackers to us. You and that sorcerer. All of this blood is on _your_ hands!"

Della had no words. How could she argue with this grief stricken mother?

"Ailis, I am sorry. I—"

"Sorry doesn't bring my daughter back!" Ailis yelled, drawing her daughter's lifeless body closer to her. Tears streamed down her dirt-streaked face. "It should've been you instead!"

"Now that is enough!" The voice of Mistress Helda called from behind her. Della turned and saw the older woman hobbling towards them, her cheek bruised from where she'd been struck. "Della and the sorcerer did not cause your child to die. If anything, they saved the village from being completely destroyed."

Ailis looked at her in disbelief for a moment. "Yet my child is still dead!"

Mistress Helda nodded. "As are others. But is that not our own doing? We were protected by the shield spell, yet we ran. But he managed to save the majority anyway."

"So her death is my fault?" Ailis' voice grew higher and more frantic.

"I am not saying that," Mistress Helda said. She went up to Ailis and put her hand on young Melita's forehead, brushing the loose strands away. "Put the blame of her death on the Saxon who killed her. Not yourself and not those who tried to save you. Grieve her loss and grieve the loss of the others who were at the mercy of fate today." She looked down at Della, who sat speechless. " I am sure Della here is pained enough for a lifetime. Remember, she has lost someone as well."

Ailis said no more, but bent her head towards her daughter's. Sobs wracked her body and Della looked away. The events of this day would be forever seared in her memory.

"Come now, Ailis. Let's find your husband. I saw him on the south side of town looking for you." She continued to cry but began walking towards the direction Helda mentioned. Helda looked back once at Della, unshed tears in her eyes.

Della nodded in response. She was grateful for Helda's defense, although she knew it was likely not the last time accusations would be hurled towards her. _I can't think about that now._ Now, she needed to think about Ealhwyn and her burial. Merlin hadn't returned yet and she knew she wasn't strong enough to carry her back to their cottage.

She wasn't sure how long she sat there, letting the events of the past few days settle upon her. Her visions of the battle at Camlann, Arthur's death, and this attack concerned her. She thought back on what Ealhwyn had said the day before.

_I believe today marked the start of your destinies merging._

Her last words too had haunted her. She'd said her and Emrys were always meant to meet. It was as if she'd known this day was to come to pass. But how? Ealhwyn had never had visions—at least none that she'd known of. It left her unsettled. She couldn't shake the feeling that more was in store for her—more than she could even fathom—or want.

"Della?" She tensed, hearing her name called, ready for another verbal attack. It was Edward, one of the village elders. Instead of berating her like she expected, he came up and embraced her, taking her by surprise. "Thank the gods you are alive!" He pulled back and she saw his left eye was swollen. A crude bit of torn and blood soaked cloth was tied around his thigh. His gaze turned to Ealhwyn and she saw grief shadow his face. "Oh, Ealhwyn…" he shut his eyes and shook his head. "We should've listened to him. He was right and we chose not to heed his warning."

Della swallowed, trying to find the words. "Would you have listened if the warning came from me?"

Edward's brow furrowed. "What do you mean?"

She took a deep breath. "The vision wasn't Merlin's. It was mine." She paused when she saw his mouth open in shock but continued on. "He pretended it was his in order to protect my secret. Not that it matters now."

Edward said nothing for a moment. He looked to be finding his own words. "How long have you been hiding this?"

"Ever since I came to Havenswood."

He let out a breath and nodded. "And the sorcerer? His name is Merlin? He told us it was Will."

She hadn't known that. "Yes." He nodded again and she sensed a wall had gone up between them.

"I'm deeply sorry," she said. "All of this…I feel like it is my fault."

He shook his head. "No, it isn't. If anything, I am to blame for this. I—and the rest of the elders—we shouldn't have been so quick to dismiss the warning. And…and it was a good deed on Merlin's part to claim the vision as his. If you had told us the vision was yours, I doubt we would've listened even then." He sighed. "Much has been lost this day." The undercurrents of what was unspoken were thick. It wasn't just loss of life and property, but loss of trust between her and the villagers as well.

Della remained silent, unsure of what to say next. Edward continued. "Let me help you take Ealhwyn back to your cottage so you can prepare her."

"Thank you, Edward," she said, her voice catching as he gently picked up Ealhwyn's body. He said nothing more but started heading back towards their cottage.

She stood up slowly, the mud caking itself to the front of her dress and shoes. The sky had darkened significantly. Rain would arrive soon. A fitting mood for such a day.

She began to make her way back, dreading what came next. The bodies of the dead Saxons lined the streets, mixed in with those villagers who had died. She didn't miss the scathing looks she received as she walked past her neighbors and friends. The same anger and distrust that she'd seen in Ailis' eyes.

Raised voices drew her attention in the direction where Merlin had headed. Edward heard it too. "I think your friend may be in some trouble."

She looked back towards the sounds, the shouts increasing. She knew Merlin could handle it on his own, but she wouldn't leave him to be the center of all the misplaced anger and grief. "I need to go," she said to Edward as she gestured towards the sound. "Can you—"

"You don't have to ask," Edward said. "I'll head over there when I can."

"Thank you." He nodded in response. Della turned and ran as fast as her feet could carry her in the muddy streets, kicking up clods as her feet dug into the soft ground.

She made it to where Merlin was. The fires were out, the only evidence that of ash and soot floating in the air. He stood there, surrounded by an ever increasing group of villagers. He looked so tired and worn.

"My only son is dead because of you!" A voice called.

"The Saxons came here because of your magic. You brought this upon us!"

But Della heard others trying to counteract the wave of insults. "If not for him, we may all be dead!"

"He killed most of the Saxons for us. Without his magic, we would all be lying in our blood."

"He prevented the fire from spreading throughout the rest of the village," another said.

"But he _brought_ them here!" Another called. "They were looking for a sorcerer."

"See what your all powerful magic does? It just brings discord." It was Algar, another village elder. She pushed through the crowd as Algar continued his diatribe, his deep voice silencing the others. "There are women and children who have died this day because of what you brought upon us! Every person's blood who died here today is upon your head."

Merlin shut his eyes and Della knew that comment wounded him more than any others. "I warned you about the Saxons last night, I _told_ you to get the people to safety—"

"It doesn't matter if you tried to warn us—they came here looking for you!" Algar said. He was quick to push that little tidbit of information aside should the blame be focused elsewhere. "You should've gone out to meet them on your own rather than cowering here."

Merlin's jaw set and he cocked his head and walked towards Algar. Whatever was coming next wouldn't be good.

"Excuse me, but I seem to remember, oh I don't know, dispatching most of these Saxons for you, while _you_ ran off and hid in the woods. So who was really "cowering"?"

Algar rushed at Merlin and grabbed him by his jacket collar. "Why you—"

"Stop!" Della yelled. They both looked over at her and she pushed her way between Algar and Merlin, breaking Algar's hold. She maintained her position in front of Merlin. The last thing he needed right now was to be physically attacked by someone he saved. "I hold all the blame for this. I should've been the one to tell you about the Saxons because it was _my_ vision. Not his."

A murmur went throughout the crowd. Algar squinted at her in shocked disbelief. "You're a sorceress _and_ a seer?" He shook his head in disgust. "How many other things have you seen and neglected to tell us?"

"Would you have believed her?" Merlin said. "Or would you have her arrested for witchcraft?"

Algar said nothing but clenched his jaw and Della knew the answer.

Merlin continued. "Hate and distrust us as you will, but magic saved your lives today. Don't forget that."

"He's right." Edward called from behind the crowd. Everyone turned and focused on him and Della saw as Merlin had a look of surprise. "Magic did save us today. If he had left last night like I and the rest of the village elders wanted, we would all likely be dead."

"Edward, you don't know what—" Algar tried to counter argue but Edward spoke over him as he continued to address the now quiet crowd.

"Merlin did try to warn us last night, but we did not believe him. We accused him of an elaborate plan to harm us and our fear and distrust of sorcery prevented us from rightfully warning everyone. I know I will forever regret it. So, please, do not blame the man who did what he could to save us despite our continued arrogance and prejudice."

No one else spoke. Edward continued. "We have lost much today. We need to focus on coming together in our grief rather than tearing each other apart trying to find blame. We have endured other tragedies. We will endure this one."

The crowd broke up then but Della did not miss the glances of many who looked at her as if she were a traitor. Edward came up to both of them. "I fear I am in the minority among our neighbors."

"Thank you for trying to defend us," Merlin said.

"Yes, thank you," Della echoed. She felt hollow inside. The same people who had been her friends, the same folks she helped tend to when ill, helped assist in childbirth, they looked at her now as if she were nothing.

Della let out a shaky breath. Only one thing was certain now: She wouldn't be able to stay here any longer. Ealhwyn had been right—much had changed from this day forward. Now she needed to forge a new path ahead, into an unknown fate.

* * *

Merlin walked in silence beside Della back to her cottage. She looked at the ground the entire way as he watched her avoid eye contact with her neighbors. He alternated between anger at their prejudice and sadness for their inability to look past it. Hadn't she been a well respected member of the community? Hadn't she done all she could in the years she'd lived here to heal them, take care of them, keep them safe?

Yet all that was gone because of who she really was.

He realized then just how ingrained the prejudice and fear likely was throughout the kingdom. If Arthur had lived, and had repealed the ban on magic, it would not have been accepted overnight like he once naively assumed. Too many years of Uther's influence combined with the evil the High Priestesses Nimueh, Morgause, and Morgana wrought upon the people had permanently entrenched in the people's conscience that magic was only used for death and destruction. This experience had shown him that much.

Could they ever be convinced otherwise?

They returned to the cottage and found Ealhwyn laid out on the table, her hands crossed over her chest. Della walked over to her aunt and grabbed her hand. "You weren't supposed to die." She whispered. She wiped away a tear as quickly as it fell.

Merlin put a hand on her shoulder. "I will not leave you here to face this alone."

"I wouldn't fault you walking out that door and never looking back." She moved away from him as she went to gather supplies to prepare Ealhwyn for burial.

"You'll have to physically kick me out and bar the door if you want me gone," he said as he took the bowls and rags from her hands. "Now, will you let me help you?"

She stood there motionless, her brown eyes welling up. Then, before he knew it, she reached up, kissed him on the cheek and threw her arms around his neck in a sudden embrace. He nearly dropped what was in his hands in surprise but managed to return the hug, wrapping his arm around her. "Thank you. For everything," she mumbled into his shoulder. "I'm more grateful than words could ever convey."

_Thank you._ He rarely heard that over the years. He choked back his own emotion welling up within him. "A simple thanks is more than enough," he said. She truly didn't understand just how much being acknowledged meant to him. He never sought recognition all these years, but just one show of gratitude really made him feel the sacrifices were worth it.

She pulled out of the embrace, wiping more tears on her cheeks. A part of him had wished she'd lingered in his arms a little longer, but he pushed the burgeoning feeling aside. That was the last thing that should be crossing his mind now.

They worked in silence, the only sound that of the rain cascading down the rush-covered roof. Merlin let Della do most of the preparations. He watched as she gently combed Ealhwyn's hair, as she carefully made sure to wash out the now dried clumps of mud. Throughout the entire process, Della kept a blank face, concentrating on the job at hand. At one point, he watched as Della paused and rubbed her injured side and he inwardly berated himself for forgetting about her injury.

"You haven't changed your wrap yet, have you?" He asked.

"I don't need it anymore," she said, focused on scrubbing Ealhwyn's nails free of dirt. "It's just sore now."

"You should at least take those off; the paste must be dried and uncomfortable by now."

"I will when she's ready," she said.

"Ealhwyn would want you to—"

"This comes first," Della said firmly. She hadn't looked up from her task.

He sighed, knowing it was a losing battle. If Della was one thing, she was single mindedly focused. _Another recognizable trait._ He thought.

She finished cleaning the dirt from Ealhwyn's hands she went to the cupboard in the corner and pulled out a long folded sheet as well as some long ribbons.

"Can you…can you help me wrap her in the shroud?" she said, trying her best to keep her voice steady. "I'm not strong enough to—"

"You don't need to ask," he said.

Della nodded and opened the cloth and spread it on Ealhwyn's bed. Merlin then gently lifted Ealhwyn's body at her shoulders while Della supported her feet as they carried her the few feet from the table to the bed. He helped her tie the shroud around Ealhwyn shut and Della put sprigs of rosemary within the folds of the shroud.

Seeing Ealhwyn's lifeless body there, wrapped in a simple linen shroud, when she had been alive and talking with them just hours earlier weighed upon his heart heavier than he'd expected. He was suddenly reminded of his solitary funeral for Arthur just four days prior, of his lifeless body sent away in the boat, covered in a mantle of fog.

The sorrow was just beneath the surface, threatening to overwhelm him. But he couldn't, _wouldn't_ , dwell on that now.

"I wish I knew what to do," Della said, diverting his thoughts. "I don't think I can stay in Havenswood much longer."

She was right. The people would always associate her with this tragedy and while some might eventually grow to accept her again, she would likely be isolated for some time. And now that she had lost her only family, she faced the burden of her visions alone.

He didn't want that for her. And he had a strong inclination that he'd been led here to meet her and maybe, she was a part of what was yet to come. So much had occurred in the time he'd known her that it was almost unquestionable.

"Maybe your true destiny is just beginning," he said, voicing the thought out loud.

"Ealhwyn said something similar to me yesterday," she said. "She told me she believed our meeting marked the start of our destinies merging."

All signs now were pointing to the obvious, though he was just as hesitant to accept this new path. But he couldn't ignore it.

"Well then," he said, "perhaps you should come with me to Ealdor."

"I don't know. You barely know me."

"I know you better than others I've known for years," he said. "And I have a feeling you know more about me than you've let on."

She looked away and he knew he was right on that account. He continued. "There's nothing left for you here. Ealhwyn wouldn't want you to face whatever's next on your own."

She remained silent for a moment and stood up and placed a hand on Ealhwyn's chest. Finally, he caught a barely perceptible nod. "All right," she said. "I'll come with you."

She was at the precipice of the unknown and he knew all too well from experience how nerve wracking that could be. He'd had guidance along the way from Gaius, and occasionally from Kilgharrah, and she would need that guidance now.

His dark mood slipped away as he considered the possibility of a brighter future. And he knew they both needed something to believe in if they were to continue forward.


	7. Hope Renewed

* * *

 

Ealhwyn's burial took place in the mid afternoon along with fifteen other villagers. A long trench was made, with each body carefully placed in its final resting place. Memories of another mass tragedy flashed in Della's mind as she thought about the Dorocha attack nearly five years prior. Even more had died then and the now long grass covered mound served as a somber reminder. Now another mound would join it.

The ceremony was brief, with Edward having volunteered to say a few words. She wasn't sure what was said, so deep in thought she was, thinking about all that had transpired. The grief was deep and it felt as if her heart had been carved out. She didn't want to dwell on it any longer, knowing that it would be all too easy to slip into a darkness that would consume her. She focused on the changes coming—packing up and leaving the only place she'd known as home the last decade.

 _At least I know where I'm going._ When Merlin had asked her to join him on his journey back to Ealdor, an immense sense of relief washed over her. She hid it carefully—she didn't want to act too eager, seeing as she was still nearly a virtual stranger to him. But she had nearly cried tears of relief knowing there was the promise of new life somewhere. It would be the second time she'd had to start over, and hopefully it would be the last.

Della was brought out of her thoughts by a slight touch on the back of her hand. Merlin gently brushed the back of his fingers against hers. _"You aren't alone."_ She heard him communicate within her mind. It was the smallest of gestures and she nearly lost the composure she'd been striving to maintain.

" _I know."_ She responded back. She grabbed his hand completely, not caring if anyone else saw what occurred. But as much as she wished to keep her hand within his comforting one, she didn't want to make him feel uncomfortable for any reason—he didn't need to concern himself with the possibility of his traveling companion developing feelings for him. She reluctantly let go a moment later.

Shortly after, the ceremony ended. Most of the village men remained to cover the grave. The remaining villagers avoided approaching her and Merlin, heading back to their homes without a word to either of them. Most avoided eye contact but a few looked at her as if she were a stranger-or worse, as if she betrayed them.

The sooner tomorrow came, the better.

Della started back towards the cottage but Merlin held back for a moment.. "I'm going to see if they'll let me help," he said. "I still can't help but feel responsible..." he trailed off and shook his head, unable to finish the thought.

Della nodded. "I'm sure they will appreciate it." She knew it was his own way of dealing with the grief and perhaps atoning for whatever he blamed himself for. She wished he wouldn't think that any of this was his fault, but she knew part of him would always feel to blame. It was the kind of person he was—the kind to always take responsibility for actions that weren't entirely his to shoulder.

He turned towards the growing group of men and hesitantly approached them. She waited, hoping it wouldn't turn into a shouting match like it had earlier when he'd put out the fires. Instead, she watched as Edward clamped a hand on his shoulder in solidarity and the other men, though wary, said nothing. At the very least, they would be grateful for another pair of hands to help in a morose duty.

She returned home in moments and stared at everything in the small cottage. Where to even begin? It would be so easy to just leave it all and only pack what was needed, but the thought of abandoning half a lifetime's worth of memories pained her. There wasn't room to bring much and she needed to find someone who might want the cottage itself. Perhaps Mistress Helda would want some of the tinctures and other items. The thought of approaching anyone else today made her beyond anxious.

It soon became overwhelming and being in the cottage alone was much more unnerving than she anticipated. Before she could talk herself out of it, she left for Mistress Helda's.

Helda's cottage was a few down from their own. The rain throughout the day had made it trickier to move and the metallic smell of blood still hung in the air. The dead Saxons had already been moved to another area where they would be burned on a massive pyre. She would not miss the smell that came with the burning of that many bodies; but gods willing, she would be gone by then. It was unlikely the villagers would suffer her and Merlin's presence much past sunrise.

Della dispelled her unpleasant thoughts as she knocked on Mistress Helda's door. It opened and the older woman smiled sadly and brought Della into an embrace. She gratefully returned the hug.

Helda pulled back, her eyes shining with tears. "Come inside, dear girl, come inside." Della followed her into the cottage. A light smell of cabbage pottage hung in the air and Della's stomach churned. She hadn't eaten anything all day, nor had Merlin for that matter. "Havenswood has lost much this day with the death of Ealhwyn. Such a warm and giving soul. And I fear you will have quite a reputation to live up to with her healing prowess, though I know you are just as talented."

Della took a breath and began. "After what happened today, I'm afraid I can't stay in Havenswood any longer. I'm leaving tomorrow along with Merlin." Sorrow deepened the creases on Helda's face. She nodded slowly and remained silent—not a common occurrence with her. Della continued. "I believe the people would always associate me with this tragedy and now that they know my secret, it's doubtful they would trust me enough to let me help them, at least for some time. Their fear of magic is too great. And I don't blame them for that."

"I understand," Helda said, nodding slowly. "There was a time in my life when magic had been revered and those with it were held in high esteem. I'm afraid the Purge and the years following have changed that forever."

Della nodded, though part of her still hoped that would change, even if it took years for it to happen. "I can only pack so much to take with me. I was wondering if you could use anything I leave behind and if you knew anyone else who would find our items useful."

"Of course, my dear," Helda said. "I will make sure nothing goes to waste. And don't you worry—I will look after the villagers and whatever they may need. I know of a few young women that I might be able to train up as healers." She reached over and rubbed her arm. "Though I'm afraid none will compare to you and Ealhwyn."

"Thank you," Della said. She reached out and hugged Helda again, thankful for one of the few friends she had left. "I hope you live a long and happy life."

"And the same for you," Helda said. She smiled and a hint of mischief gleamed in her eye. "Though I suspect you will with that handsome sorcerer of yours by your side."

Della's face burned. "Mistress Helda! That's…that's not—" She shook her head. "I've only known him a day. There's nothing—"

"Oh huff and puff, you can't hide things from these old eyes. I saw how you jumped to his defense today, during the attack, and when Algar tried to harm him. And don't think I didn't see you holding his hand at the burial earlier."

"I was only protecting him from harm, and as for the burial, that was for support—"

Helda waved her words away as if they were a pesky fly. "You keep telling yourself that, dear girl. Tragedy often has a way of bringing people closer together much faster than you think."

Della shook her head and sighed. Well, Helda was still Helda in this regard. The conversation brought her a small light of hope on such a dark day. But she wouldn't dwell on the insinuations now—even if part of her heart wanted to.

With her mind at ease, she left Helda's cottage, wiping the stray tear that fell. She would miss the kindly old woman and her mischevious meddling ways.

On her way back, she looked over at the group of village men and Merlin working hard to cover the graves. He would be exhausted when he returned and likely in want of a bath. He'd done so much the past two days, she wanted to make sure he had a few moments to actually rest before their journey began. She wasn't sure how far Ealdor was from here, but knew it was in Lot's kingdom. It would take at least a full day to travel there, if not longer. The furthest she'd ever traveled had been when she left Camelot all those years ago and came here, and that had only been a half day's journey.

Yes, she had quite a bit of work ahead of her. But at least it would distract her from the reality behind her leaving, and prevent the grief from overwhelming her.

She returned home, hesitant to open the door and face the emptiness inside. She wasn't sure how long Merlin would be gone and she certainly didn't wish to continue walking around the village just to avoid the silence. She couldn't delay the inevitable any longer. With a steadying breath, she opened the door and entered, focusing as best she could on the tasks at hand.

She found Ealhwyn's travel pack and medicine bag and packed them with the essentials: herbs, tinctures, and a few extra supplies for bandages. She got to work preparing a bath for Merlin when he returned, setting up the tub in the corner where she did laundry in the winter and hanging a long sheet over their laundry line. She prepped the ingredients for supper, chopping the few early spring vegetables they had for a stew. She wished she could've bartered for a chicken to cook, but the thought of asking any villagers for that today was off putting.

Vegetable stew it was then.

The daylight was waning as she put the stew pot over the fire and stirred. Quickly the smell of the cooking vegetables filled the cottage. It was ever so tempting to eat as she stirred, but she decided against it. She'd wait for Merlin to return.

She was so engrossed in stirring that the knock at the door startled her. Della got up and greeted Merlin with the smallest of smiles. "Come in," she said.

He looked beyond fatigued and in desperate need of that bath. Bits of mud were scattered throughout his dark hair and his hands were completely black from an afternoon of shoveling. His clothes were caked in grime as well and she was glad she had the foresight to prep the bath beforehand for him.

He nodded and smiled in return. "Whatever you're making smells amazing," he said. "Then again, I'd eat nearly anything right now."

"It'll be ready in a little while," she said. He walked in and sat heavily on the bench at the table. She followed his gaze to the corner where she'd set up the tub.

"I wasn't sure if you'd want to wash up after…" she trailed off. "The water's already in the tub, but not warmed up. I didn't know when you'd be back and I figured I could use magic to heat it up when you returned. " She smiled sadly. "Ealhwyn and I did that often."

"Thank you," he said. "But I'm afraid I don't have an extra set of clothes."

"Oh, I already thought of that," Della said. She walked to the linen cupboard and pulled out a pile of clothes. "We made extra sets of clothes for anything unexpected. You just never know who will need them when you're the town healer." She placed them on the stool behind the makeshift curtain. "They may be a little loose on you but it's the only set of men's clothes we have."

"Loose or not, it'll be better than sitting in what I have on now," Merlin said.

"Good," she said. A small smile played on the corner of her lips as she walked to the small basin. She stood over it and extended her hand over the water. " _Hléowan,_ " she said. Steam quickly developed over the water's surface after her incantation. "If you need it warmer—"

"I can do that myself," he assured. "I used that spell on occasion in Camelot. When no one was within earshot of course."

"Somehow that doesn't surprise me," she said. "Anyway, I'll let you alone. Will the curtain suffice for privacy? It was the best I could do. If not, I can leave for a few minutes and come back." She felt her cheeks growing warm at the thought.

"It'll be fine," he assured her. "Besides, I don't want you to burn that delicious stew you're working on just for modesty's sake."

"All right then," she said. "I'll just…over there," she said, turning her back to him and heading back to the stew pot—and tripping over the hem of her dress in the process. Thankfully she caught herself at the edge of the table.

 _You clumsy dolt._ Why was she acting so flustered? She wasn't a particularly clumsy person but now she acted as if she couldn't walk straight. _It's not like he's taking a bath right in front of me._ She immediately pushed that image from her head as she tried her best to calm the flush on her cheeks and neck that she knew had likely turned as red as her hair. She hoped he wasn't watching her too closely.

Unfortunately the slight chuckle coming from his direction assured her he had seen it all. She shut her eyes in embarrassment and focused on the stew pot in front of her.

No words were exchanged—thankfully—she needed to concentrate on something else. She tried her best to think about what else she needed to finish before leaving but her mind drew a blank. Instead, Helda's earlier comment popped up and raced through her mind like a stray mouse scurrying across the cottage floor. _Tragedy often has a way of bringing people closer together much faster than you think._

 _Stop it, you silly girl._ But the more she told herself to stop dwelling on such things, the more her mind did.

_Strong arms embracing her, supporting her. The ever so slight brush of the back of his hand against hers._

"You look lost in thought."

Della nearly jumped from her seat at Merlin's voice. She must've been daydreaming longer than she realized. "Yes," she said, stirring the stew quickly to make sure it hadn't burned. "I was thinking about what else I need to do to get ready to leave. Still quite a bit."

He sat at the end of the bench closest to her. "Well, I can help you know. You don't have to do it all alone. What else is there?"

"Oh…um," she quickly scrambled to think of something. "I need to wash your clothes for starters," she said, finally examining him and noticing just how loose the extra set of clothes were on him. "You can't very well travel with your shirt and pants about to fall off."

"These aren't _that_ loose," he said. He stood up to show her. "Well, maybe just a little. But I can wash my own clothes. In fact I can do that right now."

"What?" Della said. "Supper's almost ready. You don't—"

He cocked his head at her and gave her a slightly mischievous grin. "You seem to underestimate my laundry skills. I was a servant for ten years, you know. Do you have a washing board and bat?"

She nodded. "In the corner against the cupboard."

With a slight jerk of his chin and golden flash in his eyes, the items were mid-air. With another flash, the makeshift sheet was pushed aside and his clothes were plopped into the tub with a soft splash. Her washing board and bat floated over towards the tub as if they were alive. Another moment later, and the items moved as if an invisible laundress stood there.

"Almost forgot the soap," Merlin said. Another _plop!_ And the soap was in the tub. All without Merlin having moved from where he was standing.

"How—when—when did you learn how to do that?" She didn't know why she was so surprised—the man could call down lightning from the sky and dispatch dozens of enemies at once—but somehow, she never imagined something as simple as this. And all without uttering a word!

"I could move objects before I could talk," he said. "At least according to my mother. It's second nature for me. If anything, it was hard not to do it. I had to train myself to be much more careful while in the castle. But I still managed to on occasion, especially on days when both Gaius and Arthur had me run ragged."

She shook her head in astonishment. "I could never move things like that. Then again, I'm not Emrys, the greatest sorcerer of our time." She smiled but his faded at the mention of his other name. Her comment broke his brief good humored countenance and she inwardly cursed herself for saying it.

"Seems supper is ready," she said, trying to break the pall that developed. She grabbed two wooden bowls and began scooping the stew. She made sure to fill Merlin's bowl to the brim and handed it to him carefully. "This tastes better with bread but I wasn't able to procure any today."

"I think this will be plenty," he said, a small grin returning. "Thank you." He sat down at the table.

She nodded and let out a small sigh of relief, hoping he'd forgotten her earlier comment.

After today—nay, after the last few days—the evening meal called for something stronger than water. She went to over to the Ealhwyn's medicine shelf and pulled a tall bottle of clear brown liquid from behind the tinctures and brought it back to the table. Merlin's eyebrows rose.

"That's definitely not water," Merlin said.

"It certainly isn't," Della said. "It's mead Ealhwyn bought on her last trip to the market a few weeks' back. We both preferred the taste of mead over ale, so she often made it a mission to trade for various kinds around Camelot. Would you like some?"

"You don't have to ask me twice," Merlin said. "I'm not much of a drinker but today certainly warrants a cup. Or two."

She poured one for him and handed it across the table. "Here's hoping the days ahead are less troubled."

"I couldn't agree more."

* * *

"Are you ready?" Merlin asked Della as she put the last few vials of some herbal tinctures in her medicine bag. Though it was just past dawn, the day was already overcast with darkening clouds. It would be another day of rain ahead.

She closed the flap and looked around the cottage. He saw her eyes scanning the shelves and the rest of the humble belongings, taking in the sight of her home for the last time. She took a breath and quickly brushed some stray tears away. "Ready as I'll ever be." She grabbed her cloak on the peg next to the door and tied it around her shoulders. "Let's go. If I stay a moment longer, I'm not sure I'll leave."

He opened the door to the cottage and she walked through it, refusing to take another look back. He shut it with a thud of finality. "All right then," he said. "Ealdor's a good full day and a half journey from here on foot, maybe two depending on the weather. If we get to the forest of Brechffa by day's end, we—"

He stopped as he saw Della's glance turn behind her. Edward was coming up towards them, the only villager in the street at this early hour.

"I see you're both on your way already," he said, a tinge of sadness in his voice.

"We have a long journey ahead of us," Merlin said. "And we didn't want to draw any more attention by leaving later."

Edward nodded. "I wanted to wish you both well on your journey," he said, extending a hand towards Merlin. "And to thank you, Merlin, for all of your help. I know there are a few others who feel the same."

He nodded. "I wish I could've done more."

"You did what you could," he said. Edward turned to Della then and took both of her hands in his, his eyes softening. "Della," he said, his voice low and sad, "I…I wish that things had turned out differently for us. I would ask you to stay, with me, but I know how circumstances would make that difficult."

Merlin felt slightly uncomfortable witnessing what should've been an otherwise private moment. He realized just how much she was giving up by leaving for the unknown with him and he suddenly felt very guilty.

"Edward," Della said, "I understand how deeply you feel, but even if I could stay, you know I have always viewed you as only a dear friend. And I will always hold you as such."

He nodded in understanding. "And I, you." He embraced her then and Merlin saw as the man was struggling to keep his heart from breaking. A knot welled up in his throat watching their goodbye.

"Merlin?" Edward called to him. Merlin turned to face him again. "Take care of her, will you?"

He nodded. "I will," he said as he saw Della turning a slight shade of pink in the early morning light.

Edward seemed satisfied with his promise. "I wish you both the best on your journey," he said. With that he nodded to both of them and turned quickly around, heading back into the village.

Della bit her lip to maintain her own composure as she watched Edward's receding figure head down the lane.

"You can still change your mind," Merlin said. "You can still—"

"No," she said, firm and resolute. "It's time for me to move on." She moved past him quickly towards the edge of the forest and never looked back.

He followed her quick footsteps, glancing back at Havenswood one last time before the long journey ahead.

* * *

They walked in silence for an hour as the clouds grew darker. His own thoughts shifted back and forth to all that occurred recently. Leaving the village reminded him of all that had happened before he'd arrived. Each step away from Havenswood also led him away from Avalon, where Arthur was. A part of him hesitated to ever leave this area, to stay in vigil beside the lake for Arthur's return. But that could be years—lifetimes even from now. And what was he to do in all that intervening time?

His thoughts dwelled on what his father's spirit said in the Crystal Cave, how he was magic incarnate, how he essentially was immortal. _Immortal._ The greatest sorcerer of all time destined to walk throughout the centuries, to face a perpetual solitary existence.

 _Don't think about that now._ At least today, he wasn't alone.

He looked back at Della, who was walking with her eyes downcast. He wondered what destiny had in store for her. The visions she had in connection with him surely meant something, though he didn't know what just yet. And her past... he still didn't know all that much about her, only that her mother was a Druid, yet she hadn't been raised as one.

Today wasn't the day to ask those questions though.

Suddenly, his ears alerted to a distant sound. Hoofbeats. They were coming at a quick pace and he remembered that they were on the main patrol road for the knights of Camelot. Another thought came to his mind—they were likely still looking for Arthur and himself.

The thought of encountering any of them right now and having to face that grief—and the guilt—head on was not something he wished to deal with.

He turned around and grabbed Della's arm. "Merlin, what—"

"We need to hide," he said, heading for a group of large oak trees clustered a few paces from the road. "I hear horses in the distance. They're probably on patrol from Camelot, looking for Arthur and—"

"No need to explain any more," she said and she bolted for the copse of trees as if she were the one they were searching for. He pushed the questions about her reaction back as he made it to the trees, waiting for the knights to pass.

Only a few moments later they came into view. There were only two of them but even from this distance, Merlin recognized the curly blonde hair of Sir Leon and the towering form of Sir Percival.

They stopped a few paces from the fork in the road that Merlin and Della just passed. He couldn't hear anything they were saying, but he saw Leon gesturing in the direction of Havenswood and Avalon. His guess was that Gaius likely told them where Merlin was headed with Arthur and why—and it had been too long for them not to have returned by now.

A small part of him wanted to run up to Leon and Percival and tell them everything that had happened, how he tried everything to save Arthur but it had been too late. But the guilt of his failure overwhelmed that urge and he stayed glued to his hiding spot, willing them to leave.

He looked over at Della, whose eyes were unblinking in their direction. Her gaze was firmly locked on Sir Leon. Despite the cool air, he noticed a sheen of perspiration on her forehead and quickened breathing.

 _She knows him._ Somehow, Leon had a tie with her past.

The pair of knights finally circled their horses in Havenswood's direction and Della let out a shaky breath.

"All right," he said slowly. "I know why I'm hiding from them—but why are you? Why did you look at Leon like that?"

She shook her head. "I don't know what you're talking about," she said, unsuccessfully trying to dissuade his question.

"Don't lie to me," Merlin said. "You know Leon, don't you?"

She shook her head again. "Years ago, in passing. That's it." She went tight lipped then and he knew it would be a struggle to get anything more out of her. He didn't have the energy to insist on answers right now.

"Fine then," he said. "Shall we keep moving?"

* * *

The rain had started midday, and by mid-afternoon both of them were drenched and freezing. Della hadn't talked anymore after they saw the knights in the woods and they had both eaten their mid-day meal in silence.

Once again, he determined to himself that he would learn to master the art of teleportation. And soon.

His own mood grew darker as the day went on. They journeyed past places that held many memories of former excursions with Arthur and the knights. Each familiar landmark and path greeted him with painful memories of happier days gone by. Days that he wished he could bring back more than anything.

"Merlin?" a slight tug on his elbow made him turn. "I was wondering if we could stop soon?" She was shivering and he'd been so focused on putting distance between Camelot and himself today that he hadn't thought about how she was faring.

"Yes, we can," he said. "Just over the ridge there is a rocky outcropping that will provide a bit of shelter."

She nodded and started walking but not before he stopped. "I'm sorry," he said. "I pushed you too far today. And I'm sorry about earlier, with the knights. "

"Don't apologize," she said, giving him that small smile he was growing accustomed to seeing. "I shouldn't have been so short with you. I promise I'll tell you about it someday. Just not today. It brings back memories I'd rather forget."

They reached the ridge quickly and thankfully, the sky had begun to clear up. He found as dry of a spot as he was able and set down their pack of bedrolls and blankets.

"I'll try and find some wood for a fire," he said. "I'll be back in a little while."

"All right. I'll be here."

He didn't stray too far from their makeshift camp. He picked up what wood he could find that hadn't been soaked through by the day's rain. Gathering the firewood sent his thoughts back in time. He remembered all of the times he'd done the same on the many journeys he'd gone on with Arthur and the knights. Seeing Sir Leon and Sir Percival heading towards Havenswood earlier left an ever widening hole in his heart. Had it really been less than two weeks ago when they had all gambled and relaxed in The Rising Sun? It was like a lifetime had passed since then.

He missed his old life. What he wouldn't give for the days of being at the prat's beck and call, the daily brotherly banter exchanged between them. At times he still couldn't believe Arthur was well and truly dead; he half wondered if this had been some long and crazy dream, half waited for Gaius to prod him and tell him he was late for his duties again.

But it hadn't been a dream.

He made his way back to their small camp. Della was still quiet too, quietly chopping the small amount of vegetables she'd packed, perhaps sensing his mood. He never met anyone who could read him so clearly, though he suspected much of that had to do with her own powers and past visions of him.

He quickly built the fire, half forgetting that he didn't need to hide his magic. He'd done the same routine on Arthur's last night alive.

_Why don't you use magic?_

_Habit, I suppose. Feels strange._

It did feel strange, this world without Arthur. The thought hit him as if the sky had fallen, the weight of the world surrounding and crushing him from every angle. All the sorrow that had been building up over the past days came rushing forth in an unexpected torrent of emotion. Shattered hopes and broken promises of a once bright future rained around him like shards of glass slicing at his wounded heart.

Perhaps he would be better off alone, away from anyone that he could hurt. All of his best intentions had only harmed those he cared about.

He felt an arm around his shoulders, felt himself being drawn towards Della. She said nothing, just held him as he let the tears flow faster and greater than he ever could remember crying before.

 _Do not blame yourself, Merlin._ He heard Della's voice echo in his mind as she used her telepathy to connect with him.

"Why not?" he said, managing to choke out the words. "Everything that's happened in the last few days, from Arthur's death to Ealhwyn's, can be tied back to _me."_

"That's not true," Della said. "You're not thinking clearly. The grief.…"

"…Is showing me just how much in error I've been recently." He rubbed the tears from his cheeks with the palm of his hand and shook his head and looked at Della. "My poor decisions have cost the lives of so many. My destiny was to help Arthur unite Albion and bring magic back to the land. Yet I failed to protect him and bring about this great future everyone had hoped for, had _died_ for. Everything ended in utter disaster and I've never felt so helpless and lost in all my life."

"You _haven't_ failed," Della said. "Don't they always say the darkest hour is before the dawn?" She continued. Merlin remembered saying that very thing to Arthur when the Dorocha attacked, remembered thinking it couldn't get darker than that. He'd been wrong.

"I know Arthur is gone but I still believe Albion will be united and magic will be accepted again because of the path you've forged. I don't believe your destiny is over." She squeezed his shoulder. "I know you feel directionless—I do too. But after meeting you, it's shown me that, maybe, the dawn is on the horizon. You're still Albion's greatest hope."

A few days ago—hell, even a few moments ago—he thought destiny had been playing more cruel games with him. Her words were a balm to his heart and the conviction with which she spoke gave him confidence for the first time in awhile, reigniting a dim flame within him of the hope of a yet unfulfilled destiny.

She smiled at him in the firelight, her comforting presence lightening his heart. She was so close he could see flecks of gold in her brown eyes and the light dusting of freckles on her nose and cheeks. Sitting before him, in the space of a moment, he wanted nothing more than to lean in and kiss her. She must have sensed it, for he felt her draw ever so slightly closer to him.

The thought consumed him, but quickly fantasy gave way to rationality. He realized that if he gave in to that momentary desire, it would not be for the right reason. Not yet anyway.

He pulled back, and cleared his throat coming back to reality and trying his best to calm his racing heart. "You've given me more hope just now than I've felt in months," he said. "Thank you." He squeezed her hand tighter but made no move to let go. He may have pulled back from a deeper relationship with her but he still wanted her warm hand in his.

"No need to thank me," she said. "It's the least I can do after everything you've done for me." She kept hold of his hand and made no move to let go either.

He didn't know how long they sat there, staring at the fire, just taking simple comfort in one another's presence, nor did he care. It was something they both needed to continue moving forward on the path destiny had given them.

* * *


	8. Truth Revealed

The sky grew dark with rain clouds as Leon and Percival rode towards the village of Havenswood in search of Merlin.

The witch Morgana was dead, as Percival reported when he returned to Camelot two days ago—and so was the king.

Leon didn't want to believe that Arthur was gone, but Percival was certain. When he went to the lake of Avalon, he found only one set of footprints leading away from the shoreline, as well as marks in the mud showing that a boat was sent out into the lake. Had Arthur survived, both he and Merlin would have returned already. Avalon was only a few hours' journey on foot from the city, not three days.

The king's death was already announced in court and Guinevere was now sole reigning monarch. But she—as well as Leon, Percival and Gaius—were determined to find Merlin and ask him what happened.

A sickly sweet and acrid odor interrupted Leon's thoughts. He knew that smell: the smell of the dead. But it was stronger than a single body on a pyre; his eyes watered at its strength.

Percival noticed it, too. "That's not normal." They stopped just before the clearing to the village.

"It certainly isn't," Leon responded. He edged his horse into a canter down the hill towards Havenswood. The moment they entered the clearing, it was obvious a battle—or more likely a massacre—recently occurred.

"By the gods, " Leon muttered. Some of the cottages were burned to ash, with damage on many of the neighboring ones. How it stopped from consuming the entire village was a miracle in and of itself.

"Sir," Percival called to him. He gestured towards a long freshly covered mound. Leon's stomach dropped.

"We need to find out what happened immediately," he said. They led their horses towards the cottages. It did not take long to come across a middle aged man coming out of his home. He jumped back at the sight of two knights on horseback, obviously still on edge.

"Heaven and hell, I thought they'd come back," the man muttered.

"Thought who had come back?" Leon asked. "Can you tell us what happened?"

The man rubbed his forehead, his eyes clouding over in recollection. "Saxons, sire," he said. "They were lookin' for a sorcerer."

"A sorcerer?" Leon asked, surprised at where the conversation was headed. "Why?"

"Don't know, sire," the man said. "Guessing revenge for somethin'. Had to be about fifty or so that came yesterday just after dawn. The sorcerer attacked a few of the men in the woods two days ago rescuing one of our village healers, but I think there was more bad blood between them than that."

_Two days ago._ Right around the time when Merlin could've come through. Was he an unfortunate victim in the onslaught?

"How were they defeated?" Simple farmers couldn't defeat a battle-hardened group that large.

"By magic, sire," he said. "The sorcerer used some kind of shield spell before we all ran. Then he called lightning down from the sky. Most of 'em were killed that way. Not sure how the rest died; I ran for the woods with my wife and two daughters though not before—" he stopped, his voice breaking. "My eldest was shot through with an arrow by one of the beasts."

Leon's heart sank at the man's story. "I am deeply sorry for your loss, good sir."

The man nodded as he used the sleeve of his tunic to wipe the tears from his eyes. "Fifteen people died by their hands but we'd all be lyin' dead if not for him. He brought the Saxons to our doors but he also saved us all from being a pile of rottin' corpses. That pyre over there," he gestured towards the opposite end of the village where a large plume of smoke floated up to the sky, "is all that's left of the bastards."

Leon thought of the sorcerer at Camlann. They sounded one in the same. "Is the man still here?"

"No sire," the man responded. "He left at first light along with our healer. She ended up being a sorceress too, though no one knew until then. Couldn't say where they were headed."

"What did the he look like?" Leon asked.

"He was a younger man, not older than yourself."

Well, that was unexpected. He turned to Percival. "Not the same sorcerer then."

Percival shook his head. "Or it is and he changed his appearance."

_Of course._ Leon turned back to the villager. "Can you describe him in more detail?" Leon asked.

He nodded. "He was on the taller end of normal, with raven colored hair, and blue eyes."

Did he hear that correctly? He sounded like he was describing Merlin. His mind was playing tricks on him. Merlin wasn't the only man to have that complexion or build and he was certainly not a deadly sorcerer such as this one.

"Any other features that stood out?" Leon said.

"Not really, sir," the man said. "He looked like an average enough man. Was quite on the thin side, not the knightly type such as yourself."

He felt quite unsettled as the description sounded more and more like their friend. But how to know for certain? Leon thought back on how Merlin looked, trying to come up with any other distinguishing attributes. Suddenly, he remembered something that would answer the question once and for all.

"Did he wear a scarf? Red or blue in color?" Merlin nearly always wore that scarf of his, so much so that he and the others often joked with him that he'd been born with one around his neck.

The man pondered a moment and then nodded. "Why, yes, sir, he did! Color as red as your cape there."

Leon's mouth opened in shock. No. No, it couldn't be. _This cannot be true!_

"And you're _sure_ you're not mistaken in any way?" Percival said. "Perhaps it was the sorceress that cast the spell instead?"

"As I stand before you, it was him," the man said. "I didn't see what she did; I only heard about that later on. But I saw him call the clouds overhead; I watched as he directed his hand towards the Saxons, and saw as the blinding light cast them down. I'll never forget him as long as I'm this side of death."

Leon drew a hand over his face, waves of disbelief coursing through him. He didn't want to believe any of what this villager said but there was too much damning evidence and no reason for him to lie. Combined with his exact description, the timeline of events and the location of Havenswood in relation to Avalon, it couldn't be anyone else _but_ Merlin.

He couldn't put the two people together in his head: Merlin, the servant and Merlin, the _sorcerer._

"I will bring word of this back to Camelot, sir," Leon said, trying not to think about the uncomfortable truth revealed. "Rest assured the king and queen will send assistance in whatever way necessary." He would not let the people know about the king's fate yet— certainly not in the wake of such a tragedy. Word would reach the village soon enough.

"Thank you so much, sire." The man nodded his thanks, his eyes watering anew. Leon bid the villager goodbye and motioned to Percival to head back to the woods.

Percival halted his horse to a stop once they reached the ridgeline on the edge of the village. "So. Do you think the man he described was our Merlin?"

"Yes, " Leon said. "As much as I wish it wasn't true." The realization dawned on him as gradual as a candle lighting up a dark room. Merlin's trip to Avalon, a center of ancient magic, made more sense now, and scattered memories flickered across his mind. "How many times has Merlin miraculously escaped death while with us over the years?"

"I just assumed he was an extremely lucky fellow," Percival said. "Couldn't comprehend him ever having magic—especially not being as close to the king as he was. The thought never even crossed my mind."

"Nor mine," Leon said. "Perhaps we should've been more discerning." Leon thought back on a few of the more remarkable episodes of Merlin's "luck. "He should've immediately died when he was attacked by the Dorocha, yet he managed to keep breathing when no one else survived an attack. And when we took back Camelot from Morgana both times, he somehow evaded serious injury despite the heavily armed soldiers."

They had often teased him of conveniently hiding when the battles were intense, yet he always insisted that he stay at Arthur's side no matter what, despite being untrained in the ways of battle. It made more sense now; he wasn't hiding but fighting with _magic._

"And that mission to rescue the queen from The Dark Tower," Percival continued. "He was the one who got us out of those damned woods, kept us from going in circles for eternity." He shook his head. "In hindsight, I should've questioned it then, but at the time I was just thankful we didn't rot there."

"We were blind," Leon said. "We chose not to see it." _Because I only ever thought him a humble servant. Loyal and brave, but a servant nonetheless._

"There's something else," Percival let out a heavy breath. "If Merlin was that sorcerer at Camlann and the one who came here, then he and that Dragoon fellow are the same person."

Leon hadn't put that together, and yet another revelation occurred to him. "He was the sorcerer who killed Uther." He didn't want to believe the words as he uttered them.

"Yes, but Gaius said Dragoon was there to heal him and that Uther was too far gone to be saved even by magic," Percival said. "Knowing what I do now, I don't believe he killed him on purpose. This is Merlin we're talking about. He's only ever thought of everyone before himself—even Uther, who would've had him killed on the spot if he'd known."

"Maybe he isn't as magnanimous as he's led us to believe," Leon said. He couldn't help but feel betrayed at his new identity. "Why had he knowingly risked discovery especially when Uther was alive? There must be a reason beyond just loyalty to Arthur and Camelot. No, there's something more behind it." Magic caused more harm in his experience than good. It tore lives apart—including his own. "I'll be forever grateful for the times he saved us but the fact still remains that he's a sorcerer. And from the looks of it, an extremely powerful one. Such people are not to be trusted."

Percival nodded slowly but Leon could tell from the look on his face that he did not agree. "What do we do now? Should we try and see if we can catch up with him on the road?"

"No," Leon said. "We need to let the queen know about the attack here—and about Merlin's secret. Let her decide how we should continue."

"But Leon," Percival said. "He's our friend. Shouldn't we—"

"We'll leave it up to the queen," Leon interrupted. He wasn't entirely certain how he would react if he came face to face with him now. "Let's head back." He kicked his horse into a gallop, as if that would help him forget the truth.

* * *

Guinevere watched as the last member of the Council exited the room. She took a shaky breath. Only Gaius remained behind, standing stoically next to her. She was thankful for his presence—one of the only friendly faces left in her life now.

"I think that could've gone better," she said.

Gaius looked to be contemplating what to say next. "It was to be expected, all things considered. I remember a very similar meeting when Uther passed."

"Back then, they knew the kingdom would be ruled by Arthur. Not by a former servant." She voiced the doubts that she read on each of the noble's faces. "They've never truly felt comfortable with me as Queen. Even less so now." She looked down at the ring on her finger—the only vestige left of her marriage. "And I cannot say I blame them."

Gaius put a comforting hand on her shoulder. "Do not doubt your ability to lead this kingdom, Your Highness. You are more capable than you give yourself credit for."

"Thank you, Gaius." It helped that someone continued to have faith in her, even if she doubted it herself. Right now, she wanted nothing more than to closet herself away from the responsibility and burden of ruling a kingdom alone. The emptiness within her heart threatened to consume her but she did not have the luxury to spend time mourning.

Camelot came first, always.

The chamber doors opened, breaking her maudlin thoughts. In strode Sir Leon and Sir Percival and for the briefest of moments, hope filled her. Arthur was gone—that much she knew—but her best friend was still missing. She glanced behind them, half hoping to see that ever familiar mop of dark hair.

Leon and Percival bowed. "Your Highness," Leon said. The look in his eyes made whatever hope she had evaporate quickly. "We have some unfortunate news to report."

"What is it?" she asked. _Please, don't let Merlin be dead too!_

"While searching for Merlin, we discovered the village of Havenswood was attacked by a rogue group of Saxons. They were searching for the sorcerer from Camlann."

She knew who that sorcerer was; Gaius had all but confirmed her suspicions. "Did they find him?"

Leon and Percival exchanged glances and by theIr hesitance, she surmised that they too now knew the truth, though she tensed at the thought of how.

Leon picked up the story. "Regarding the sorcerer, my lady..." he trailed off. "He's someone we all know very well."

"It was Merlin," she said, matter-of-factly, not wishing to prolong the inevitable. "What happened to him?"Gaius tensed next to her, likely hesitant to hear what might come next.

Leon looked surprised at her reaction. "He's still alive, your Highness. Much of the village was spared due to his actions and the Saxons are no longer a threat."

Tears of relief clouded her vision. "I'm thankful to hear that." He was safe and she was grateful for his courage, once again saving the lives of so many.

Leon nodded once but wore a mask of confusion. "Your Highness, you don't seem surprised by Merlin and his...powers."

Guinevere quickly wiped the tears from her eyes and continued. "I've had suspicions for awhile, but mostly at Camlann, when I saw him on the mountain," she said. "I don't know why, but I just _knew."_

"And it does not bother you?" Leon asked. " He kept this from us for years." She heard the hurt and betrayal in his words.

"I understand his need for secrecy," she said. "Uther would've had him killed and Arthur…" she shook her head. Did Merlin tell him before he died? "Arthur was still hesitant about his feelings towards magic. He was more lenient than Uther but I am not sure how he would come to terms with his closest friend being a powerful warlock. I'm guessing his reaction would be similar to yours."

Leon tensed. "He has magic, Guinevere. And after I heard the villager's tale of just how much power he does have, it leaves me unsettled."

"Not all who use it are like Morgana, Leon," Guinevere said. Leon's feelings towards sorcery had long been influenced by Uther. "Without him, she would be here on the throne."

Leon looked away, clearly struggling. "I understand, Your Highness. But I can't see him in the same way. He's a completely different person than the man I thought I knew."

Guinevere sighed. She put her hand on his arm. "Remember who he has always been—selfless, kind and wholeheartedly brave. Think about what he's done for Camelot—and for us all." _And what he tried to do for Arthur._ It hurt knowing that Merlin had watched Arthur die, and that he was now suffering in his grief alone.

Leon nodded but she knew it would be something he would continue to battle with. "Yes, your Highness."

She removed her hand. "Do you know where he is now?"

He shook his head. "Only that he left Havenswood with their village healer, who apparently also was a sorceress in disguise."

That intrigued her for a moment and Gaius raised an eyebrow at the last part. She wondered why he traveled with a stranger but knew such questions would not be answered. He was not coming back to Camelot, which saddened her greatly.

"Do you wish us to continue to search for him?" Leon asked.

Guinevere shook her head. "As much as I want him to return to us here, he must feel a reason to stay away." She suspected he felt guilty for failing to save Arthur, among a myriad of other things. And for a moment she envied him—envied that he _could_ run away and choose to avoid a place filled with broken promises of a future never to come. "We will leave him to come to the decision to return on his own."

"Yes, your Highness. Is there anything else you wish for us to do?"

Guinevere thought back to the attack on the village. "Organize a contingent of knights to collect some food and supplies from around the city for the people of Havenswood. I will make sure the merchants and farmers who give are reimbursed. And I will need a patrol sent in each direction around Camelot to make sure there are no other rogue groups of Saxons terrorizing our citizens."

"Understood. Percival and I will work on that immediately." He and Percival bowed and exited the chamber.

Guinevere sighed, exhaustion taking over. The morning had been busy and hellish and all she wanted was a few moments' peace with her sorrow. She looked to Gaius, who had remained silent the entire time. He was grieving in his own way too.

"Do you think I made the right decision? Regarding Merlin?" she asked.

Gaius nodded. "When I had said goodbye to him in the woods, I felt that it would be for the last time. I am certain he believes his time here is done." His voice was low and broken and she could tell that he was fighting to maintain his stoic composure.

Gaius' grief was the final bit that drove Guinevere to tears. The thought of never seeing Merlin again combined with Arthur's death was suddenly too much. _It's as if he died too._

"Oh Gaius, how are we to go on?"

He brought her into a much needed hug just as he had a lifetime ago when she had been just a servant. "I don't know, your Highness," he said, "but we will go on because we must."


	9. Dawn of a New Day

Chapter 9. Dawn of a New Day

“Merlin,” He heard Della’s voice on the edge of sleep and felt her hand gently shake his shoulder.  “Time to wake up.”

He stirred a bit and grunted, keeping his eyes closed. Morning came too soon. Again. “Hmmm.”

“Come now, I have some porridge ready for you,” she said.

The promise of food was enticement enough. He cracked both eyes open, meeting her warm smile. A few strands of her hair came loose from her braid. He grinned back. “That’s a nice sight to wake up to,” he mumbled, his voice heavy with sleep.

_Wait. Did he just say that out loud? Damn._

He sat up and propped himself on one elbow and cleared his throat. “I mean, the food is nice,” he amended. “That’s not to say you’re an _unpleasant_ sight to see, but, um, what I mean to say is, well—“ he ran a hand through his hair, appalled at his inability to string together proper thoughts this morning. _Idiot._

“Merlin, it’s fine,” she said, her smile remaining. “You were half asleep. Besides, it was a nice compliment.” She handed him the bowl of porridge. “Did you sleep well?”

“Very well,” he said, thankful for her diverting the conversation. “It’s been a long time since I slept straight through the night.” He took a bite of the porridge. The taste took him by surprise. It was lightly sweetened and thicker than the normal watery paste he was accustomed to. “This is amazing!” he exclaimed—perhaps a little more excited than was warranted.

She laughed at his reaction. “It’s just got a spot of honey in it. Nothing amazing about it.”

He shook his head, scooping another spoonful into his mouth. He swallowed and continued. “Gaius never made anything this good for breakfast. It was always pretty basic. Half the time I woke up too late to eat much more than some stale bread or some gruel.”

“Don’t get too accustomed to it,” she said. “I just thought you might like something a little more comforting than plain porridge after last night. My mother—“ she stopped herself mid-sentence. This was the first time she’d ever mentioned anything about her past willingly.  She looked hesitant to continue but did so anyway. “My mother used to make me this after a particularly rough time.”

“Well, I really appreciate it,” he said. “It was very thoughtful of you.” He wanted to ask more about her mother but reconsidered.

“Thank you.” Della took a bite of her own food and did what she was good at when he knew she was uncomfortable—change the subject.

“So, how much further do we have?” she asked.

Merlin swallowed another bite and looked at the sky. “If the weather holds, we should be there by mid-afternoon.”  He finished the last bits of his meal quickly. “So…is there enough for a second helping?” he asked.

Della laughed. “Yes. Eat as much as you want.”

“Great!” He stood up went over to the cooking pot. Amazing how a good night’s rest and a delicious meal could make him feel. For the first time in days he actually felt some semblance of happiness, even if it would likely be short lived.

He turned and met her gaze as he licked a bit of spilled porridge from the side of his finger. “What is it?” he asked. “Is there some on my face too?”

“N..no,” she stuttered. “I’m just glad to see you in a happier mood today.”

“Much of that is thanks to you,” he said, smiling at her. “And this helps too.” He gestured to the porridge.

“Well then, if that’s all it takes, remind me to get more honey.”

“Oh I will, don’t worry about that,” he said. It was nice to see that bit of wit he’d noticed on that first day returning.

The rest of the morning passed peacefully.  He helped her clean up and pack their belongings and soon they were on the road to Ealdor again. The day was proving to be much warmer than the one before as the sun shone brightly through the forest canopy. It was a welcomed change.

“What’s Ealdor like?’ Della said, some time after they’d started off.

He shrugged. “Just an average village. It’s smaller than Havenswood. Nothing remarkable.” He looked back at her and continued. “When I was younger, I wanted nothing more than to leave, to find some place where I wouldn’t have to hide my true self. To be more than just a farm boy born with magic he couldn’t use.” Melancholy slipped back into his thoughts. “And yet here I am, years later, still searching. Funny how life works like that.”

“You could always go back to Camelot,” she said. “I’m sure you’re greatly missed.”

He thought of Gaius and their farewell. _I’ll have your favorite meal waiting for you._ A lump rose in his throat remembering the way he’d said it. It was as if Gaius sensed that was the last time they’d see each other. “No, it’s better that I stay away. There’s nothing there for me but shadows and memories of my failure.”

She nodded. “I understand,” she said.

He studied her closely. “Do you?”

She chose her words carefully. “Only that I know what it’s like to leave behind an entire life.”

He arched an eyebrow. “You’re not referring to Havenswood now, are you? “

She remained silent for a few moments as they continued walking. Then she spoke again.

“I lived in Camelot as a child and into my adolescence. There were certain…” She hesitated, choosing her words carefully, “...circumstances that dictated my departure.”

He assumed as much after her reaction to Leon the previous day. “Someone discovered you had magic, right?” He paused, making sure to avoid mentioning him.

“Yes.” She closed her eyes and he could tell the memories were still painful.

“I’m sorry, I wasn’t thinking again,” he said. “I know I ask too many questions sometimes. I’m just—trying to get to know you as well as you seem to know me. I’m at an unfair disadvantage.” He smiled, trying to lighten the mood once more.

“Don’t apologize,” she said. “I know that I haven’t exactly been forthcoming to you about myself. But I promise in time, I will.”

_In time._ How long would she be a part of his life? He also wondered just how long she’d known of him. He knew at least as far back as the Veil between the worlds tearing, which was past four years now.

“Can you tell me something else then?”

“You want to know how long I’ve had visions of you.”

“How did you—“

“I know you’ve been wondering about it since you found out I was a seer,” she said.

It was eerie how easily she was able to read him. He supposed that’s what happened after seeing him in visions for so long.

“Are you sure you want the answer?” she asked tentatively.

“Of course!” he said. Now his heart was racing in anticipation.

She took a breath and focused on the ground ahead of her. “Do you remember when all the crops in Camelot died overnight? And when the water dried up?”

“Yes,” he said, slowly. That was the first year he lived in Camelot.

“The vision came two days before it happened,” she said. “I saw the crops wither and the wells run dry. And I saw you and Arthur standing around a dead unicorn. I didn’t know who you were until some time later.”

“I…I’m not sure how to respond.” He said.

She nodded, still averting her eyes. “I figured as much. How can anyone react to a stranger saying they’ve seen them countless times over the course of a decade?”

He heard the hurt and hesitation in her voice. Though he was uneasy, it hadn’t been her choice to have all these visions given to her. “Yes, it’s unsettling to hear, but you didn’t choose to be a seer. It’s what you were born with, what fate allotted you. And you’re no stranger to me, Della,” he said. “You’re kin. We’re bound together through our magic. Much like all who have this gift.”

“I’ve yet to see the “gift” aspect of it,” she said.

“I know,” he said. “But perhaps that’s yet to come.”

“It’s been so long, Merlin.”

“Yes, but now you’ve actually met me. Maybe we had to meet in order for you to…” he hesitated to say the next words, “to fulfill your destiny.”

“But what destiny exactly?” She said.  

“All these years later and I’m still trying to figure that one out myself,” he said.  Just when he had an idea of where fate was taking him, it took him in a completely unexpected direction. “I suppose, like all things, it’ll be revealed in time.”

“Because half my life isn’t enough time already,” she muttered, bitterness laced in her words.

“I wish I had more answers for you,” he said. “I was fortunate enough to have a dragon’s foresight to guide me along the way. If I could, I’d ask him for advice but… unfortunately, he’s gone now too. Or at least, close to it.” Kilgharrah pretty much made it clear to him at Avalon that they would be parting ways for good. Yet part of him felt the great dragon was still alive, somewhere.

They crossed the ridge of Ascetir shortly after midday. Conversation stalled between them and she was silent as they ate quickly at midday before continuing on.

“You know,” he said, hoping to take both their minds off the subject of destiny, “I’m actually a little nervous about going back.”

“Why?” she asked.

“I’m not ready for all the questions everyone will have about my return,” he said. “I’ve only been back a few times over the years since I left. They all knew I was Arthur’s servant. And many of them knew Arthur personally, too.”

She looked puzzled by that statement. “How would they know him? They’re in Lot’s kingdom.”

“Back when Cenred was king, a group of raiders blackmailed and attacked the village. Arthur came with me to help fight them off,” he said. “Gwen and Morgana too—when Morgana still had a heart.” He smiled sadly. “They all helped in banding everyone together to fight. The raiders were driven out, and their leader killed.”

“I’m guessing you helped more than they knew,” she said. “How did you manage to keep your magic a secret?”

He sighed. “That was thanks to Will, my best friend. Arthur saw the whirlwind spell I conjured that drove out the raiders and Will took responsibility. He ended up dying from the bandit leader’s arrow that was meant for Arthur.”

“I’m so sorry,” she said

“It’s all right,” he said. “He’s just one of many I’ve lost over the years.” _Well, that ended up dampening the mood again_. “At least I still have my mother.” If anything, that was the one bright side about returning. He smiled, trying to push away the encroaching grief again. “You’ll like her. She’s the kindest soul I’ve ever known.”

Della smiled. “I’d expect nothing less. She raised you after all.”

He smiled in return, feeling a bit sheepish at the compliment. “Um…thanks,” he said. He didn’t want to admit to himself, but her compliments made his heart lighter. He hoped he could hold onto that feeling now as they approached Ealdor. They turned a corner and he recognized the ever familiar road as it widened into a clearing, the sight of the village not too far off in the distance.

He paused at the corner. “There it is,” he said. “Almost home.”

***

Della didn’t miss the hesitance in Merlin’s voice as he pointed out Ealdor. The way he’d said it sounded like he was trying to convince himself. While it may have been his home at one time, she still firmly believed his heart lay in Camelot.

Merlin went forward and she followed, making sure she kept a pace or two behind him. Her stomach churned with her ever growing anxiety. Her former resolve of starting anew had quickly dissipated and now her mind raced with questions and worry. What would everyone think of her, this stranger arriving alongside their village hero? And where would she live? She knew she couldn’t stay with Merlin and his mother for long; she needed to make her own way.

Try as she might to assuage such thoughts, they came faster and more persistent with each step.

They crossed the boundary into Ealdor itself and Della immediately felt homesick for Havenswood. It was similar—as she suspected it would be—though Merlin was right in describing it as tiny. From her vantage point, she could see there were half as many cottages here as Havenswood.

“Merlin?” She heard a man’s voice from a cottage door. “Is that you, boy?” They both turned and saw an older man, sitting on a wooden bench outside, leaning against a wooden cane.

Merlin walked towards the man and extended his hand in greeting “Hello, Master Howell.”

Master Howell took his hand. “ ‘Tis a surprise to see you here.” He said. “And who is this lovely young lady with you? Have you finally gotten yourself a woman?”

Her face burned at the insinuation but she knew this would hardly be the last time such presumptions were made. She watched as Merlin’s ears turned red. “Actually…no. She’s just a friend. This is Della. Della, Master Howell.” He made the introduction quickly, scratching the back of his neck in a sign of discomfort.

“Pleasure to meet you, sir,” Della said. Master Howell studied her closely and nodded wordlessly, clearly unsure of what to make of this “friend” of Merlin’s.

He turned back to Merlin. “Word came of the battle at Camlann and your king’s disappearance. We all wondered about you too. I take it King Arthur is safe and well?”

The smile quickly faded from Merlin’s face. Not more than a few steps into Ealdor and he was already confronted with what he dreaded. Della watched as he struggled to find the words and keep his composure. “He…um, I’m afraid to say he…did not survive the battle.”

Master Howell’s former cheerful demeanor dissipated. “Oh. Oh, son, I’m sorry.” He paused a moment. “He was a great man. Not many rulers like him who care for us common folk.  Truly a shame.”

Merlin nodded and she could tell he was trying to find a way out of the uncomfortable conversation. Della came up behind him and put her hand on his shoulder. “We should continue on towards your mother’s,” she said, providing him an exit.

“Yes,” he said. Master Howell eyed her quizzically, but Merlin was quick enough to stop any more conversation. “Good day, Master Howell.” He nodded and turned and gave Della a small smile.

“Good day,” Master Howell replied back. Merlin walked on and Della followed not too far behind.

“Thank you, by the way ,”Merlin said quietly once they were a few paces down the lane _._ “For ending that discussion. I don’t know if I would’ve been able to say much more without falling to pieces.” Trailing off, he took her hand and squeezed it once.

Before she could find the words to respond, he let go. “There,” he said, pointing to a house at the end of the lane. “We’re here.” He increased his stride and she let him go ahead as she fell a few steps behind, watching as he searched for his mother, much as a child would.  He went to the side of the house and disappeared from view. She caught up and found him in a small herb garden, his hand on the shoulder of a woman kneeling on the ground. She looked up at him, surprise evident in her face.

“Merlin! Oh, my son!” she stood immediately and embraced him.  Della stayed back, not wanting to intrude on the moment. Her eyes watered at their tender reunion. She heard Merlin’s voice break and it reminded her of the night before, just how heartbroken he was. She wished he didn’t have to relay the story again but knew it was part of the healing process.

“He’s dead, Mother,” she heard him say. “Arthur…I couldn’t save him.” He took in a sharp breath and his shoulders shook as his mother tightened her embrace.

His mother remained silent but Della watched as tears streamed down her face. She stood there, holding Merlin as he cried, giving only the comfort a mother could give. The scene tore at Della’s heart as part of her longed for the comforting embrace of her own mother or Ealhwyn.

_But I have no one left._ Suddenly, it was too painful to watch, not without succumbing to her own grief.

She turned around and walked to the front of the cottage, trying to quell the rising sadness. An enveloping loneliness surrounded her like a death shroud, tight and unyielding. Tears fell as she remembered the light of life leaving Ealhwyn’s eyes.

She wasn’t sure how long she stood there, in front of the cottage, lost in her own heartache, when she felt a hand on her shoulder. She looked over, quickly wiping her cheeks, to see Merlin’s mother standing there. “Come inside, will you?” she asked, the same kindness reflected in her eyes as her son had. “I’m Hunith, by the way.”

“My name’s Della,” she responded, trying to force a small smile.

Hunith returned the smile and led her inside, her comforting hand still on her shoulder. Merlin stood at the door, concern written on his face. _Are you all right?_ His telepathic message echoed in her mind.

Even in the middle of his own sorrow, he still put her feelings above his own. _Yes,_ she responded back. _Please don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine._

He met her gaze and nodded once, seeming to understand. She wished he didn’t feel the need to constantly make sure she was okay. He had enough burdens without adding her own.

Della followed Merlin and his mother inside. The interior of the cottage was bigger than where she lived before. It wasn’t large by any means—room enough for a table and two beds, a cupboard and a chest in the far corner. Dried herbs hung on one wall and the smell of (whatever dried herb) reminded Della of home.

Della sat on the bench at the table nearest the fireplace and Merlin sat across from her, putting both arms on the table. Hunith took the spot nearest her son and looked from both Della to Merlin. “Are you able to tell me all that happened?” she asked. “I know the last few days must’ve been difficult for you. Both of you.”

Merlin looked at his hands and Della could tell he was trying to find the words to begin. “There’s…there’s quite a bit,” he said. “Are you sure you’re ready for it all?”

Hunith put her hand on Merlin’s arm. “I’m ready for whatever you want to tell me.”

Merlin sighed. “All right.” He took another steadying breath before he began. “It all started months ago, with the judgment of the Disir….”

***

Hunith listened to her son’s account of all the events that had befallen him the past few months. _No wonder the letters stopped._ Her heart broke for him and all the choices he had to make , the choices that brought such misfortune.  She struggled to be strong for him, as much as she felt her own tears threatening to take over.

Gone was his wide-eyed innocence and wonder. Instead she saw a man—yet forever her little boy—broken and lost.

“I killed Morgana with Excalibur,” Merlin said continuing his story, his voice devoid of emotion. “She’s no longer a threat to anyone anymore. It was something that needed done ages ago yet I’d been too hesitant to do it. I thought that maybe she still had a shred of compassion left buried beneath all that hatred. I let my hope blind me to reality.”

“You did what you thought was right,” Hunith said, rubbing his arm. “You’ve always sought to find the good in others.”

“And that was my downfall, just as Kilgharrah told me years ago,” he said bitterly. “He warned me so many times about how dangerous she was and I ignored him each time. And Arthur’s dead, Gwen’s a widow and Camelot is without its king because of me and my poor decisions.” He shook his head. “And now I’m drifting, wondering what purpose I have now.”

What could she say to help him? “Losing Arthur is indeed a great loss. I know he was like a brother to you and a part of your heart will always have that missing piece.” She took both of his hands in hers. “But you will always have a purpose. Your destiny is not over; it just changed direction.”

Merlin smiled and she watched as his gaze turned to the young woman who’d come with him. “Della said almost the exact same thing to me last night.” A shadow of admiration was evident and for the first time since he’d arrived, Hunith noticed the light of hope in his eyes. She wondered at the relationship between the two. They must have only known each other for a short time, yet she sensed an undercurrent of much more between them.

“How did you come to know Merlin so well?” Hunith asked.

Della looked hesitant to answer. She glanced over at Merlin and their eyes locked for a moment and it almost seemed as if they were communicating without words. Hunith knew Merlin had that ability with the Druids. Was Della a Druid girl?

Whatever passed between them dissipated and Della continued. “I…I’m a seer,” she said, the unsteadiness evident. “I’ve had visions for years. Most of them involved Merlin and to a lesser extent, Arthur and Camelot itself.” She bit her lip and her anxiety was clear. She must’ve been wondering what she would think of her. “Merlin met me in the woods outside my village. He saved my life.” Her voice was so soft and strained, and Hunith knew she was keeping grief of her own at bay. There was a great deal more to the story but enough tears were shed this day.

An instinctual reaction made Hunith get up from her place next to Merlin and sat next to Della. “You don’t need to worry,” she said, placing an arm around her. “You’ll be safe here. I promise you.”

Della smiled in gratitude and leaned in ever so slightly towards her.  “Thank you,” she said.

“So,” Merlin’s voice broke through the silence. “What happens now?”

Hunith turned back towards him, wishing she had the answers he was so desperate to find. “Well,” she said, “let’s just get through the next few days, shall we? People will wonder why you’ve returned and brought someone new with you.”

“We met Master Howell on our way into town,” Merlin said. “He already met Della and thought she was my wife.” He turned pink at the mention and Hunith had to bite back the smile. She initially wondered the same thing seeing Della arrive with him, if albeit briefly.

“I’ll look into finding my own place as soon as possible," Della added. "That should help clear up any misunderstandings about my relationship with Merlin.”

“Nonsense,” Hunith said. “There’s no rush for you to leave. You are welcome to stay as long as you need. And I can answer whatever questions might arise." She was suddenly reminded of the day Balinor arrived—and all the questions that arose with his sudden departure and her subsequent pregnancy. Explaining Della's presence was easy in comparison.

“But I really should—“

Merlin interrupted her. “You aren’t going to win this one, Della. Trust me on that.” He looked over at Hunith and gave his characteristic grin.

_Well, at least he learned something all these years,_ Hunith mused, returning the grin.

Della took a deep breath in resignation looking at both of them. “All right,” she said. “But not longer than necessary. And please, let me help you in whatever way necessary. I can cook, spin, help in the garden--” Hunith saw a fierce determination in her eyes and she was reminded of herself at the same age.

“In time,” Hunith said, patting her hand. “But for today, you ought to rest.” She stood up and went over to the small cupboard.  “I’ll get some supper going for us. Merlin, can you help set up a place for Della to sleep?”

Merlin nodded and went to the back of the cottage and busied himself with the chore. Della got up and came over to where she was setting out some vegetables. “Please, let me help with supper,” Della said. “I’m not one for sitting idle, even if I am someone’s guest.”

Hunith saw another trait similar to herself and smiled. “If you wish. Here, you can help chop these leeks.”

Della took the knife and focused on the task at hand, not once looking up. Hunith wondered how much of her desire to keep busy was her own way of hiding the pain of whatever happened recently.

Merlin was nearly done with setting up the blankets for Della’s bed and Hunith had more questions for her son. She walked over to him. “You haven’t told me how long you plan on staying.”

He glanced up at her once, and shrugged turning his attention back to straightening the blanket. “I hadn’t thought about it.” He said quietly.

There was no delicate way of bringing the next question up. “What about your life in Camelot?”

He paused just for the briefest of moments and then continued his task, purposely avoiding her gaze—something he’d often done to avoid talking about an uncomfortable topic. “I’ll never go back there, Mother.”

“Never Merlin?” she said. “What about Gwen? And Gaius? Do they even know what happened to you?”

Merlin sighed, slightly exasperated. “I’m sure they’ll figure it out. And I’m likely the last person Gwen’ll want to see.” The last few words came out broken.  

“You know that’s not true,” Hunith said.

“Even so, I know I wouldn’t be able to face her,” he said. He finished straightening the blankets and stood up, trying desperately to change the subject. “Is there anything else you need help with right now?”

Hunith knew that the guilt he carried was crushing him. While he may not be able to face the friends he loved back in Camelot in person right now, there was something else he could do. “Yes, there is: I’d like you to write to Gaius and Gwen.”

The sound of Della’s chopping quieted for a moment and Merlin just looked down at Hunith, unable to find the words.

Hunith continued. “They love and care about you, regardless of what happened at Camlann. Please, Merlin. Just let them know you’re safe.”

“Mother, “ he shook his head, fighting back his grief. “I can’t.” A tear trailed down his cheek and he quickly brushed it away.

“Can’t or won’t?” Hunith said. “If you don’t write them, I can on your behalf.”

Merlin said nothing but just stared at her, his jaw locked. She knew his stubbornness well—it came from her, did it not?

Della’s quiet voice broke through the silence. “Writing might help ease the pain of saying goodbye—to them and to Arthur. I’m sure it would help ease their grief, too.”

The stubbornness in Merlin’s eyes softened. He may not have been entirely convinced but Hunith saw he was closer to agreeing than he had been before.

“I’ll think about it,” he finally said. The tension between them eased and he leaned in and embraced Hunith.  “I’m going to be outnumbered in a lot of arguments, aren’t I?” A small grin returned as he looked from her to Della.

Hunith returned the hug, leaning in on his shoulder. “Only the ones that matter.” In time, he’d be convinced again that his path lay elsewhere. For now, fate had brought him back here and she would do her best to guide him.

 


End file.
